


Future Souls

by OriginalAlcy



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Heavy Angst, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalAlcy/pseuds/OriginalAlcy
Summary: Almost a quarter of a century has passed since the end of the Reaper War. The massive beings that once tried to destroy life, now help preserve peace. As the rest of the Galaxy moves on with their lives, Miranda Lawson struggles to forget. An ominous new danger reunites old friends and forces Miranda into a life she thought she'd left behind.Unrelated to the Fate series.





	1. The Cheerleader's Schedule

**2185 CE**

**_Normandy_ ** **SR-2**

Fatigue finally begins to catch up with Miranda Lawson. There's still work to be done, but Miranda has reached the point where even she needs sleep. Her preparations will have to be enough.

Although Miranda doesn't want to admit it to herself, the squad that has been assembled is formidable. There is every chance that they might succeed in stopping the Collectors. Stopping them. That's all that matters. Coming back alive isn't a part of the equation.

_{Operative Lawson?}_

Miranda twitches irritably at the sudden sound of EDI's voice. "I know what time it is. I’m hitting my rack in five."

_{You did request that I notify you when it was 0200,}_ EDI replies. _{That is not the only reason for my interruption. You also requested that I notify you of any crew behaviour that could be detrimental to the Normandy's mission.}_

That order is a necessity considering the quota of miscreants and criminals that make up the _Normandy's_ 'crew'. Miranda's mind is already working, trying to pre-empt EDI's disclosure. Zaeed Massani is probably blind drunk. No, that's nothing out of the ordinary. Miranda sneers. If she were remotely inclined to gamble, her credits would be on the psychotic ex-convict. It's Jack. Shepard should have left that bitch rotting in Purgatory.

_{I have analysed Commander Shepard's behaviour and I can find no logical reason for her current activity,}_ EDI begins.

_Shepard?_ Miranda is surprised. Although possessing a fiery temper and prone to bouts of sulking, the woman is everything Cerberus brought her back to be. Driven, almost single-minded in her pursuit of the Collectors, Shepard is a powerhouse. Miranda admires her. Despite her past - growing up as a street rat on Earth, the fires of Elysium, facing Saren, dying, being resurrected - Shepard is one of the most stable individuals Miranda knows.

Miranda doesn't want to pry into her CO's behaviour, but at the same time she needs the woman at her best. There's something else as well. Something suppressed. It might possibly be concern, but Miranda doesn't linger on it long enough to find out. Her tired thoughts flit to even more inappropriate territory. Shepard's probably fucking someone. Miranda's lip twitches. She gambles again - her credits are on the irritating Yeoman. Or perhaps Tali. The Quarian worships Shepard like a goddess. Or even worse, it's Jack. Miranda sniffs in distaste. Perhaps she really doesn't need to know what Shepard is doing.

_{Operative Lawson?}_

"Fine, go ahead, EDI." Miranda is tired and irritated. She's still fixated on her theory of Shepard and Jack. _Why the fuck would Shepard choose that tattooed freak?_ She realises how ludicrous she's being. "Report."

_{Commander Shepard has been standing outside your quarters for one hour and seventeen minutes.}_

Miranda would have been less surprised if EDI had announced that Shepard was running around the CIC completely naked and flapping her arms like a chicken. "Why?" she asks, momentarily forgetting that EDI doesn't have the answer.

_{I brought the matter to your attention so that you could ascertain the answer.}_ It is EDI's artificial method of conveying 'you're the XO, deal with it.'

"Of course," Miranda mutters.

What the hell is Shepard doing? There is precious little time left. Miranda's body is crying out for sleep. Her irritation is fast becoming anger. She palms the door open with an irritable slap.

Shepard stands still, a comically surprised expression on her face. In another lifetime, Miranda might have laughed. Instead she is tired and inherently disinclined towards humour. The situation calls for a scowl concealed behind a thin veneer of patience.

"What can I do for you, Commander?" Miranda asks. A perfectly sensible question.

"Fuck." Shepard responds as though she's been caught red-handed doing something she knows she shouldn't be doing. The woman scrubs at her eyes for a moment. Shepard is clearly exhausted. "Can we speak in your quarters, Miranda?"

Miranda ushers Shepard inside, hoping that this is just a crisis of confidence. She would normally take a seat, but remains standing in an effort to speed things up. Shepard walks at an uncharacteristic shuffling gait, as though Miranda's office is the last place she wants to be.

It's an act that doesn't suit the powerful woman. Shepard is tall – tall enough for Miranda to have to look up at her. Usually she moves like a predator with lithe, economical movements. That suits her. It suits her fiery red hair and flashing green eyes. Now those eyes are downcast and defeated.

_We don't have time for this,_ Miranda thinks irritably. She's tempted to wake up Dr Chakwas. There has to be some medical excuse for giving Shepard a sedative. Her impatience gives way to guilt. Shepard has always been there for her – especially over her personal crisis with her sister. Miranda squares her shoulders. She can do this. A few well-chosen words of encouragement. Perhaps some praise. It shouldn't be difficult. Shepard deserves every accolade Miranda can give her.

Where to start though? Miranda draws a breath, "So-"

"I'm in love with you."

It's Miranda's turn to look stupid. Her mouth hangs open and flaps uselessly.

Shepard clasps her hands together in a white-knuckled grip. "I mean…I think I'm in love with you. I think I have been from the moment I saw you standing over Wilson with a smoking gun in your hand." A laugh escapes the Commander's lips. It's self-deprecating, awkward. "I thought I had it under control, just another thing I could compartmentalise, but I can't. Not this."

Shepard pauses. Miranda knows Shepard is trying to read her expression to gauge what she's thinking. But Miranda has had years of practice at concealing emotion. She keeps her face a mask while inwardly cursing the Illusive Man and his order not to implant Shepard with a control chip. One tiny little piece of tech, and this whole mess would never have happened.

It's happening, and Miranda is perilously tongue-tied.

"Fuck, say something," Shepard pleads. "You're making me feel like an idiot standing here."

"You are an idiot," Miranda fires back. She means it, injecting enough venom into her voice that Shepard can't possibly misconstrue her intent. "We need you at your best, and instead you're moping around in the middle of the night, keeping us both awake out of sentiment."

It's Shepard's turn to be surprised. "Miranda, you know what's coming tomorrow. I needed to tell-"

Miranda surges forward. The movement forces Shepard to take a step back. "You're a selfish child, Shepard. Neither of us have any place in our lives for this at the best of times, certainly not now. I'm not compromising our mission by dragging meaningless fucking into it."

"I wasn't suggesting-" Shepard splutters.

"That's all it would be on my part," Miranda cruelly interrupts the Commander. "Meaningless fucking."

The resulting expression on Shepard's face is one of complete devastation. Although Miranda is pleased by the result, the pleasure is tempered by the concern that she's taken it too far. If she has, then Shepard won't be able to do her job properly.

Thankfully Shepard is quick to wipe the hangdog expression from her face. A mask snaps back into place. The mask Miranda recognises as Shepard's business face.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, XO." Shepard's voice is flat. "I'll expect to see you at 0600 sharp in the briefing room."

Miranda inclines her head. "Understood, Commander."

The grace hasn't returned to Shepard's movements but her back is ramrod straight and purpose like as she turns and marches out of Miranda's quarters. The door slides shut behind her departing figure. An eerie silence descends. Like the wake of a storm. All Miranda can hear is the rasp of her own breath.

Beneath her, Miranda's jelly-like legs finally give out. She searches for a chair. As she sinks down, her composure finally slips.

_Damn you, Shepard._

* * *

 

**2208 CE, Present day**

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Miranda Lawson didn't make a habit of clock watching. Even after more than two decades in the same line of work, she was kept busy enough to require twelve-hour days. Even longer when working on more urgent matters. During the brief hours she wasn't working or sleeping, she subjected her body through military grade drills. Staying in perfect physical condition required some effort, even for someone with her genes. Her routine left little time for recreation, and that was the way she preferred it.

Tuesdays were the only day that necessitated a slight deviation. She needed to finish by 5pm. Miranda was looking for something productive to fill her remaining fifteen minutes when she was interrupted by the incessant chime that signalled an incoming call. Her irritation was short-lived. Only one person was permitted to be put straight through to her private terminal.

She possessed an infinite supply of patience where her younger sister was concerned.

Miranda accepted the call. A few moments later a smiling face came into view on the screen. As she grew older, Oriana still favoured keeping her hair just below her jawline. Given that they were almost identical, the same style would have aesthetically suited Miranda. However out of habit she kept her hair just below her shoulders – suitable for throwing into a braid when she needed it out of the way, or leaving it loose during the rare occasions she needed to dress to impress.

Oriana's smile had already become a frown. "You look tired, Miri."

"It was a late night," Miranda admitted. She was rarely dishonest with her sister. White lies had always come easily for her. "There was a deadline."

Oriana wrinkled her nose, as though immediately smelling bullshit. "You specialise in R and D. What can possible be urgent enough to make you work harder than you already do? Not to mention you own the damn company. The only deadlines you have are self-imposed."

"There was a-"

"It was a rhetorical question," Oriana interrupted curtly. "Were you too busy to call Aaron?"

Fuck. Miranda felt an acute jolt of guilt. "I'm sorry. Was he disappointed?"

"Not really, no. He knows you too well and your present made him forget what a terrible aunt you are." Oriana folded her arms across her chest. "A skycar. Honestly?"

Miranda did not share her sister's concern. What else was she supposed to buy a young man on his eighteen birthday? She chose to ignore the question. "How are you?"

"If I tell you I'm fine, are you going to say goodbye so you can get back to work?"

"Of course not."

"Well I'm fine then." A trace of petulance crept into Oriana's voice.

"Are you sure-"

"Stop it. It was a divorce, not a death. To tell you the truth, Aaron and I barely notice. Greg spent almost every waking hour at work, much like someone else we know."

Miranda bristled. That hurt. "You're not seriously comparing me to your ex-husband?"

"Why not?" Oriana shrugged. "If it wasn't for vid calls, I'd forget what you look like."

Oriana had a point. They hadn't seen each other physically for almost three years. Aaron had been a gangly, spotty kid. Greg had still been dutifully playing his role as husband and father. It all boiled down to competing obligations. Family was important to Miranda, but her anxieties kicked in at the simple thought of leaving Nevos for any length of time.

That thought suddenly reminded Miranda that she was going to be late. "Ori, I do need to cut the conversation short but not for the reason you think. I have somewhere to be."

"Please tell me you're doing something nice-" Oriana started. She paused and realisation dawned in her expression. "Oh, it's Tuesday. I forgot. How is she?"

"Stable," Miranda replied quietly. "Which is as much as anyone can hope for at this stage."

"Miri…" Oriana hesitated. It was a difficult subject for both of them. "You know I've always admired you for doing this, but have you ever stopped to consider the personal cost? You never leave Nevos. You don't date. And as far as I know, you don't have any friends."

"I have friends!" Miranda bristled. Oriana made it sound like she was some sort of recluse, which was far from true.

"I meant actual friends. Friends who don't have anything to do with your work. Friends that can actually reciprocate. Someone other than me who will be honest with you and tell you to your face that you're being selfish."

"I'm not-"

"Aaron turned eighteen yesterday, Miri. Eighteen! He's not a kid anymore." Oriana looked away from the screen for a moment. When she turned back, her eyes were shining. "I guess I wish we had a few more memories than involved you."

Miranda let out a shuddering breath. She didn't care about her personal life, but Oriana's statement cut to the bone. She'd always doted on her nephew. The son she would never have. Yet despite that, Miranda knew that this was the one promise she couldn't break. "I sorry for all the times I wasn't there, but I need to do this. She saved my life…and she has no one else."

"No…I'm sorry. I know this is important to you. I just miss my big sister." Oriana sighed. She reached out and laid her fingertips on the screen. "Come see us soon, won't you?"

Miranda reciprocated Oriana's gesture. "You know I'd like that. I promise-"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Oriana interrupted gently. "Just tell me you'll call Aaron this weekend. He wants to thank you for his present."

Miranda nodded. "I will. I love you, Ori."

* * *

 

Over the years, Miranda had grown to hate a certain kind of hospital. The kind where people went in never expecting to leave. Although this particular hospital was nicer than most, set amid lush gardens overlooking a lake, the surrounds still couldn't disguise the taint. It seeped into everything. The buildings, the overly beatific staff and, most of all, the patients.

An orderly was paused outside the door as she approached, selecting a meal from a trolley. The strike of Miranda's heels on the tiles caught her attention.

"Oh, good evening, Dr Lawson." The asari had a neutral smile fixed on her face.

"Hello, Iania. Do you mind if I take her meal in?"

"Be my guest." Iania handed Miranda the tray. "Today is a good day."

Out of habit Miranda glanced over the meal. The food looked fresh and appetising – an appropriate balance of nutrients and taste. She nodded to herself in approval, then pushed her way into the room. Miranda was surprised to find the curtains thrown back to make the most of Nevos's late evening sunshine. There was even music. The sound was too heavy and primitive for her own tastes, but it made for a nice change from the usual gloomy silence.

The bed was empty. The room's sole occupant was sitting in a chair by the window, already alerted to Miranda's presence.

"Well fuck me sideways. Look who's decided to show her fucking face. Bout time, Cheerleader."

"Nice to see you too, Jack."

Miranda didn't bother to remind Jack that she visited at the same time last Tuesday. It was a routine designed to help Jack remember. Unfortunately, it had never worked.

"Dinner?" Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the tray. "Fuck yes, I'm starving."

Jack accepted the tray eagerly and fell on her food with great relish. It was all Miranda could do to manage an encouraging smile as she took up a seat on a nearby window ledge. Despite Jack's healthy appetite, she looked even worse than last week. Jack's once strong, wiry frame had wasted away to literal skin and bone. Although Jack was happy and alert, her eyes were sunken and red rimmed.

On the plus side, Jack was wearing actual clothes for once. Her grey hair appeared freshly washed and slicked back against her scalp. The orderly had been right. Today was a good day.

"So, what's happening in the wonderful world of Miranda Lawson?" Jack asked as she chewed. "And make it juicy, dammit. I don't get any news in this hellhole."

"Hellhole?" Miranda asked worriedly.

The hospital hardly fit the definition of a hellhole. Less than a decade old, it was already one of the Galaxy's leading institutions for treating biotic degradation. Despite having been colonised by asari centuries earlier, the garden world of Nevos was still a pristine paradise. Although the planet was popular as both a tourist destination and a corporate haven, the hospital was located far away from beaches and centres of civilisation. Nestled in the mountains, the vistas were unparalleled and the temperature remained cool.

Notwithstanding its location on an asari world, the majority of the small patient population was human.

Jack's window overlooked a lake below. It was serene, idyllic. A direct contrast to the life of the woman herself.

"You should see your face, Lawson. Lighten up. It's a fucking figure of speech. These digs are the best I've ever had," Jack explained, her mouth still full. "I get waited on day and night and it's fucking pretty out here."

"Yes, I know," Miranda murmured as she stared out of the window. "I like this view."

She liked best that there were no Reapers were visible from Jack's window. Not that there were more than a handful on Nevos to start with, but the ageless creatures distressed Jack with the memories they stirred. Or perhaps it was Miranda projecting her own lingering acrimony. As long as she lived, she knew she would never adjust to the sight of the ancient beings towering above the skyline. Most veterans expressed similar sentiments. It was younger generations that held no such animosity.

The silence lingered, save for Jack's enthusiastic chewing. Perched on the window ledge, Miranda was slightly uncomfortable. However she didn't try to rectify this, knowing that if she relaxed her thoughts would drift towards work. She was here for Jack, and that was where her focus needed to stay. The 'juicy gossip' Jack had requested was proving difficult to concoct. The most important events of the past week had been her nephew's eighteenth birthday and Lawson Dynamics winning the tender to develop its newest biotic suppressant for use by the asari military. Neither of which would interest Jack. When Jack's spoon scraped against the bottom of the tray, Miranda fixed an attentive expression on her face.

"Bored though," Jack offered up suddenly, almost nonchalantly.

"We can take a turn around the garden if you like?" Miranda tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

"Nah. I guess I just miss the old days – busting heads, saving people and shit, hell…even my fucking annoying students at the Academy." Jack stared thoughtfully out the window. Her expression suddenly brightened. "Shepard was here the other day. We reminisced about everything…even her piss poor dancing skills."

"Shepard was here?" Miranda asked, trying to keep the resulting frown from her brow.

"Yeah, she visits more often than you, Lawson," Jack said in an accusatory tone.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Miranda replied. "I come as often as I can. Perhaps I can rearrange my schedule-"

"You and your fucking schedule, Cheerleader," Jack sneered. "I don't wanna be an appointment slot. Fuck!" She shifted slightly in her seat, her mouth suddenly twisted into a grimace. "I gotta visit the little girl's room. Can you call the fucking orderly?"

"Why don't I help instead?" Miranda suggested. "If you'll let me."

Jack gave her a level stare. Miranda didn't let herself show an iota of pity. This was just one friend, helping another.

"Fuck it, you've seen it all before…and I do kind of get a kick out of you helping me take a shit."

For all the advancements in technology, the things that made Jack's life liveable, nothing could make her legs work. There was a time when Jack could still manoeuvre herself with her arms, bouncing from chair to gravchair to bed as it suited her. That had been some months earlier. Now her arms were almost as wasted as her legs.

Miranda wheeled Jack's chair through into the spacious adjoining bathroom. There was absolutely nothing comfortable to be said about helping Jack onto the toilet. Miranda performed each task as quickly and efficiently as she could to save them both embarrassment. Helping Jack pull down her trousers, manoeuvring her down onto the seat, waiting patiently nearby in case she fell.

"At least I can still wipe my own fucking ass," Jack muttered good-naturedly.

A polite smile followed on Miranda's part. Nothing more. She knew that the time would come when even that simple task would be beyond Jack. It would come soon. A part of her already dreaded that day, as she had dreaded all the days that had come before. To see Jack reduced to this level of dependence ruined her every time.

Miranda simply waited nearby. It felt ridiculous to even thinking about small talk while Jack was sitting on the toilet. Instead she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Miranda had never been vain, just honest. She had no qualms about scrutinising her own appearance. However two decades had passed her by and barely left a trace.

On the surface at least. With each passing year, Miranda felt more weight settle on her shoulders. Guilt. Regret. At her most introspective, she thought of Jack as the portrait to her Dorian Gray.

Jack seemed to be in no hurry. Time passed. Miranda's thoughts instinctively drifted towards work. The recent contract was significant. She'd spent a decade trying to break into the asari market, competing with firms that had been in business for almost a millennia. She had less than forty-eight hours to prepare for the arrival of the asari delegation. Miranda had already decided that she needed to work after her visit.

Her foot tapped an impatient rhythm on the tile before she stopped abruptly. Miranda cast a quick glance to check Jack was alright. There was a pensive expression on the other woman's face as she stared determinedly at a non-descript spot on the floor.

"Are you alright?"

Jack still did not look up for some time. However when she did, Miranda noticed that her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Shepard's dead…isn't she?"

"Yes," Miranda replied quickly. There was no glossing over that particular truth. "She didn't survive the War."


	2. The Falling Behemoth

**2185 CE**

**Nos Astra, Ilium**

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Lawson?"

Miranda doesn't bother to conceal the irritated expression on her face as she turns to stare at Shepard. It should be obvious. While most of the crew are preparing to waste their shore leave in Eternity, there's more than enough work to keep her occupied well into the evening. With the day she's had, Miranda desperately needs the distraction.

"The _Normandy_ ," she replies in a brusque voice.

For one brief, very odd moment, Miranda wonders what Shepard does with her shore leave. She immediately thinks of Liara T'Soni. Shepard seemed genuinely pleased to see the asari, but Miranda couldn't read anything beyond friendship in their interactions. However, Liara risked her life to bring the Commander's body to Cerberus, surely that hints at romantic feelings?

Speculating about Shepard's love life unnerves Miranda more than it should. It's irrelevant and a waste of her time. "Did you need me for something, Commander?"

Shepard's good humour falters for a split second and her pale cheeks colour. The reaction doesn't last long enough for Miranda to recognise it. Then it disappears altogether, replaced with a casual smile. "I'm going back to the _Normandy_. There's a 1/144 scale model of an Alliance dreadnought and a bottle of Glenfiddich waiting for me in the Nest. _You_ are going to meet your sister."

Miranda has done her best to forget that Oriana is standing across the courtyard with her family. She has already humoured herself with a few wistful moments of staring. Anything more would be self-indulgent and detrimental to both the mission and Oriana's emotional wellbeing. Her sister is safe and healthy. It's all Miranda needs to know.

"You're being facetious, Shepard." Miranda turns to leave. "We're done here."

A gentle, unexpected touch on her shoulder is all it takes to hold her in place. Her heartbeat flutters at the contact. Another irritant.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to meet her."

Miranda does turn to meet Shepard's gaze, but she can't respond as curtly as she would like. The fact that Shepard is still touching her shoulder doesn't help matters in the slightest. Thankfully Shepard's hand drops away a moment later.

"It would be unprofessional-"

"Miranda." Shepard's green eyes dance playfully, but the disapproval in her tone is evident.

The Commander's persistence is normally a thing of beauty. Now it's just irksome…and cruel. Miranda starts to hope. Surely simply speaking with Oriana wouldn't hurt? And Shepard gave her an order, or as good as. Miranda doesn't want to give Shepard the satisfaction of hearing her give in, so she simply turns and walks decisively towards Oriana. It's one of the hardest things she's ever done. Yet, as she closes the distance between her and her sister, Miranda finally admits to herself just how badly she wants this reunion to happen.

Her determination falters when Oriana looks directly at her. There's a moment when Miranda almost stops. Anxiety floods her entire body and her rehearsed introduction is lost. Something tugs her forward.

Oriana is her clone, yet Miranda can barely recognise even her youthful self in the young woman standing in front of her. Her sister is beautiful, poised…and smiling despite the recent disruptions to her life.

Miranda unravels. She searches for something to say. "Excuse me…Oriana? I'm…my name is Miranda Lawson. Might I have a word?"

Oriana cocks her head to one side as she studies Miranda. Eventually she shakes her head in disbelief. "Wow…um…this is going to sound completely crazy…but you and I could be sisters."

Her sister's smile is infectious. Miranda's lips curl upwards.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Aite, Typhon System**

"I've got another dead one over here!"

Ashley Williams didn't bother responding. She already knew what she'd find. Another colonist – dead through any one of several methods. There was the fairly standard shooting, stabbing and choking. Then there were the more inventive means – disembowelment, eyes clawed out, or impaled on farm equipment.

Even after three and a half decades in her profession, death never got any easier.

"This one's still warm."

With a weary sigh, Ash trudged towards the young man with an eager expression. The guy had barely been with her team for a month and still wore his enthusiasm on his sleeve. It was bloody annoying, but she didn't have the heart to quash it. He reminded her of Alenko. As she paused and looked down at the body, Ash found a pair of eyes staring back at her. The young woman's throat gaped open in a wide, bloody grin.

"Beams," Ash said quietly. "Unless you find one warm enough to tell me what the fuck happened here, just keep it to yourself."

"Yeah, course. Sorry, boss."

The corpse saw nothing, but Ash felt as though she was staring back at herself reflected in those glassy eyes. Handsome as opposed to beautiful. Features slightly sharp – made even more so by her hair being drawn back into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. The matt black armour she wore seemed to swallow light. An assault rifle appeared at rest in her arms, but the glint in her dark eyes indicated she was only ever a split second from violence. It was an image she'd spent a long time cultivating. Too long. It was getting harder and harder to switch off.

On a whim, Ash crouched down and gently closed the dead woman's eyes. As she rose to her feet, she caught Beams staring at her. A sharp glare made him turn his attention elsewhere.

Boots crunched in the gravel behind Ash.

"Why wasn't the Alliance here first? Surely a distress signal went out?"

Ash didn't turn to face Kefali Gavin, her second-in-command. Instead she kept her attention fixed on the scene in front of her, even as the asari came to stand at her shoulder.

"These people weren't attacked, Kef. They turned on each other."

"Even so, the Alliance needs to know. These are their people."

The colony was a miserable place on a miserable planet. Scattered prefabs clung to a rocky, windswept hillside overlooking a bay. Above, dark grey clouds were buffeted by the strong winds. It was poor land for agriculture, but it was cheap.

Ash sympathised with the dead – their need to find a place of their own, regardless of the back breaking work required to eke out even a rudimentary existence. However her sympathies did not extend to admiration. The colonists were fools. Regardless of their work, their labours, they were still existing on borrowed time. Aite had two centuries at most before the unstable orbit of its largest moon caused a planet wide catastrophe. While it wouldn't come in the lifetimes of the current colonists, what world were they creating for their children?

"The Alliance doesn't give a shit about these people. It's an unlicensed colony. Just a couple of hundred people who decided to strike out on their own," Ash replied. She eventually looked at Kefali, her expression hard. "Dumb fucks."

"And we're supposed to give a shit?" the asari demanded, her violet eyes flashing. "If the _Black Widow_ hadn't ruptured a conduit, we wouldn't even be here. We have an actual job to do. The kind our employer pays us for. You know as well as I do how much he hates crews going off schedule."

_Trust me, I know_. "If the Broker is fucked off, he can take it up with me," Ash said pragmatically.

She turned her back on Kefali and stared out at the wide expanse of steely grey sea peppered with white. The roar of wind and waves filled her ears. Ash had to admit that she could see the appeal of such a place. The solitude. Freedom. No crutches of civilisation to fall back on.

"Ma'am?"

Ash looked to another of her squad as he approached from the direction of a cluster of prefabs. Fletch was also ex-Alliance. Called her 'ma'am' out of habit. "Report, Fletch."

"We've searched the whole shitty settlement, there's no sign of the artefact you described. If this is the same phenomenon you saw during the war, it's not as a result of any strange orb."

Shit. "Energy signatures?" Ash queried.

"Virtually none. Save for a few obsolete pieces of tech, there's bugger all here."

"Fine." Ash pursed her lips in disappointment. Everything had been so eerily similar to the Leviathan incident, she'd thought it worth a shot. Now most of her squad probably regarded her as a crazy old bitch, or crazier than usual. "Kef, get the order out. We pull out in ten."

"We're not going to tidy things up here first?" Fletch asked, a note of concern belied his hard-bitten exterior.

"No. We'd be here for hours and we've wasted enough time already." It was harsh, but the time to prepare even shallow graves wasn't time Ash could spare. "We'll forward the data to the Alliance. What they choose to do about this is their concern."

Ash checked her chrono. With the blown conduit and their detour they were already several hours behind schedule. Kef had been right, the Shadow Broker would be pissed.

"C'mon, move your asses!" Kef's order bellowed out across the hillside. "We need to be gone five minutes ago!"

The asari's shout was drowned out by a sudden, overwhelming sound. Ash and every individual in her squad clamped their hands over their ears in a vain attempt to black out the screech. The sound, if it could be called something so simple, defied description. Horrible, altogether foreign. It drove most of the squad to their knees in anguish. It came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

In the bay below, Ash's eye was dawn to a dark shadow lurking on the surface of the water – colossal and spreading. As the sound intensified, the shadow grew.

Ash almost laughed as she belatedly realised that the shape was not rising out of the ocean, but falling from the sky. Her gaze lifted and her breath caught in her throat.

A falling behemoth. A Reaper, crashing down to earth in uncontrolled freefall. Ash's survival instincts kicked in.

"Hit the deck!"

The rattle in Ash's throat told her that the words had left her lips, but she could hear nothing other than the all-consuming cacophony. It was too late to do anything other than hug the dirt and hope.

_I am getting too old for this shit._

An immense boom rent the air as the Reaper came crashing down in the shallow bay. Ash had already braced her entire body as best she could, but it seemed an eternity before the shockwaves impacted.

Then her world imploded. Nothing she had ever experienced could have prepared her for the pain. It felt as though her brain was bursting at the seams. She tasted the salty tang of blood gushing from her nose. The last thing she heard before the darkness overwhelmed her was a bloodcurdling scream.

It was her own.

* * *

 

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

_This was one of the worst ideas you've had in the past decade_ , Miranda berated herself as she took another sip of her wine.

She didn't know what had possessed her to even contemplate the idea in the first place. Possibly a repressed need stirred up as a result of her conversation with Oriana several days earlier. Whatever the reason, Miranda thoroughly regretted everything that had led up to the present moment. Everything. From the initial attraction, to the eager complicity of the individual sitting opposite her.

"Miranda, can I be completely honest with you?"

Nea Skouros was a credit to the asari race. Both stunningly beautiful and scarily intelligent, Nea had captured Miranda's attention from their very first vid call. Upon finally meeting Nea in person, Miranda had felt something she hadn't felt in a long time – inferior. There had even been a slight flutter in the pit of her stomach when she'd asked the asari to dine with her, as though she expected to hear 'no' as the answer.

Nea now regarded Miranda with a wry smile on her face.

"Absolutely." Miranda took another sip of wine.

"This is one of the worst dates I have ever been on," Nea announced without hesitation. "And I once had dinner with a stuttering Hanar."

Even as her ego deflated, Miranda responded only with an arched eyebrow.

"You of course are far more pleasant to look at," the asari continued. "But the conversation has been…disappointing. Do not misunderstand me, I am more than satisfied with the progression of our contract with Lawson Dynamics. However, when you issued a personal invitation I had hoped that I would have the opportunity to get to know you. _You_ , Miranda Lawson, not the CEO."

Miranda couldn't stop a frown from appearing. Why was any of that necessary? She had no desire to lay her private life open to a business partner. "In that case, I must apologise for wasting your time."

The resulting smile on Nea's face was positively predatory. "On the contrary. I am hoping that this will expedite proceedings. I propose that we retire to my suite, finish our wine, and absorb ourselves in a little mindless fucking for the remainder of the evening."

"Mindless fucking?"

"Is that too crude a description for you?"

Miranda's lips parted to speak. Her interest was immediately piqued as she realised what a waste of time the whole 'date' had been. It had been her attempt to restore some sort of normalcy to her life. Other people dated. They married and had children. Miranda had always known that life wasn't something she could have. Fate had conspired against her from the moment of her conception.

Her hesitation came only from her inability to stave off the memories stirred by the phrase. The memories were decades old, but only ever a moment from recall.

"Miranda…if I have offended you by speaking in such a manner, then I apologise."

"No, not in the slightest." The memories consigned once again to the back of her mind, Miranda found her voice. "I accept your proposal on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"That you stay out of my head."

"As intriguing as that prospect would be, Dr Lawson, you have my word."

Miranda drained her glass. "Lead the way."

With the need for polite conversation stripped away, Miranda felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She followed Nea from the restaurant and into a waiting taxi with anticipation already building, culminating in a passionate kiss before the door had barely closed behind them. Despite her own hunger, Miranda ensured that she demonstrated her extensive knowledge – touching her would-be lover in all the right places. Nea was already breathless and – confirmed when Miranda slid a hand up her inner thigh – her azure was swollen and wet to the touch. In the semi-darkness, Miranda caught a flash of white teeth as Nea ssmiled.

Decades earlier, Miranda had been more reserved around asari. However she'd soon discovered that it was easy to surrender control. It suited her to know that a liaison would only ever be a fleeting moment amid a millennia long lifespan. Effortlessly forgotten.

Miranda wished that she could forget so easily.


	3. Harden up, Kid

**2185 CE**

**Collector Base, Omega-4 Relay**

Miranda doesn't remember a time when she has ever felt such complete and utter exhaustion. It taints everything with its foul, unfamiliar stench. Every breath feels like her chest is pushing against a deadweight. The Carnifex in her hand feels as though it weighs a ton. Her arm trembles just lifting it. Simply thinking about summoning dark energy sends another jagged arc of pain through her skull.

She's almost ready to admit to herself that she is spent. Almost, but not quite. She stubbornly refuses to show any sign of weakness.

A glance ahead takes stock of the situation. The Collector drones are still coming in waves. Miranda catches a glimpse of the red and white stripe on Shepard's armour as the Commander sends yet another plasma flare spiralling out from her omni-tool. A drone writhes, Shepard drives forward and decapitates it with a perfectly-placed shot from the Wraith in her hands. As the body falls, Shepard is already turning to engage her next target. Engineers usually fight from a distance, but Shepard prefers to be in the thick of combat – hence the shotgun.

The woman is inhuman. Miranda once thought she was too. After all, wasn't she supposed to be perfect? It's clear she's nothing more than meat and bones like the rest of them.

Somehow Shepard has kept her entire squad alive. Massani, despite the fact that he is half-drunk. The petite thief, desperately out of her element in this whirling chaos. That insipid Quarian. Even Jack.

Especially Jack. The petite freak carves aside the Collectors like they're paper dolls. Miranda would hate the woman even more if she wasn't so bloody grateful. Jack is also the reason that Miranda won't admit she's physically exhausted. If Jack is still fighting, then she's still fighting.

Damn pride.

At the moment that she allows herself to believe that they might all get out of this alive, something collides with her chest. A serrated forearm, lashing, slicing through shields and armour. It's just enough to knock her off balance. Miranda stumbles. Suddenly there's nothing solid beneath her boots. She drops. For a split second falling feels like freedom. She wants it.

Then instinct kicks in. Miranda throws her arms out. Fingers searching for purchase. A few heart-stopping seconds of desperation and she comes to an abrupt halt. Dangling by a few fingers over the abyss. Every muscle in her body screams in protest as she tries to drag herself up. She fails. There's barely anything left. Enough for several meaningless seconds of clinging to life. Nothing more.

Miranda thinks it strange that her entire life has led to this one moment. An anonymous death in the bowels of an alien vessel. She can only hope that she has done enough. Shepard will do the rest.

_Shepard._

One hand slips.

There's a face looming above. Miranda has never hated an individual so much while at the same time being so utterly relieved to see them. Wreathed in blue, Jack's vice-like grip encases her wrist. At the touch, Miranda feels the threat of death disappear. Then she's falling in the opposite direction. Towards Jack.

It's over. Jack's staring down at her with barely concealing loathing. Both of them are asking themselves why the hell Jack did it.

"Move your fat ass, Cerberus bitch!" Jack yells. Then the freak is moving without a second glance back.

Miranda rises to her knees. Her Carnifex is gone. She reaches for the Tempest at her hip, servos whirring into life at the moment a Collector Captain lunges towards her. One jerk of her hand is enough to cast overload. Its shields fry, starting to cook the skin beneath. As it writhes, she jabs her finger on the trigger until its chest is pulverised.

Something compels her to stand. To start moving. As she does, she starts to feel the weight of debt settle on her shoulders. A debt Miranda knows she will spend the rest of her life repaying.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Aite, Typhon System**

The first thought that came into Ash's head was that something had taken a shit in her mouth. She swiped her tongue against her cheek, finding a foul taste accompanied a gritty substance. Pain followed a second later as she became aware of the rest of her body. It felt as though she'd been on the receiving end of a battering ram. Ash made a concentrated effort to move her arms and legs - even if it was just a slight twitch. Everything hurt, but it was a means of confirming that she still had all of her limbs.

Out of necessity, full movement came abruptly. Ash threw her body to one side and promptly vomited. Blood mingled with dirt and the remnants of the meal she'd eaten several hours earlier.

With the heaving done, it took her a few moments to realise that her eyes weren't closed. Night had fallen while she was unconscious, blanketing the hillside in darkness and a cold so penetrating that her thermal undersuit felt paper thin.

Ash pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her head felt as though it was splitting apart. She clutched at it in a futile attempt to curb the pain. Her hair had escaped and was whipping across her face but she made no move to tie it back. Through glazed eyes she saw dim lights nearby. She blinked. There were others out there.

"Here."

A canteen was thrust in her direction. Ash snatched at it without a word and used her first mouthful to swill the acid from her mouth. She spat into the grass beside her, then took a long, grateful gulp. As she drank, her eyes gradually adjusted. Her team were scattered in small groups, most sitting, a few walking slowly. She handed the canteen back and dragged her hand across her chin.

She turned to look at Kefali Gavin. Despite the fact that there was nothing out there other than darkness and the roar of the sea, the asari was staring intently. The canteen held loosely in her grasp. Ash thought she saw a hint of moisture in Kef's eye, but mostly there was relief.

"How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours," Kef replied. "Doc dosed you up, said you might not wake up at all and if you did, you'll need a medbay. Something about internal bleeding."

"Huh, that's why I feel like shit," Ash murmured. She followed the line of Kef's gaze, wondering if the fallen Reaper was out there. Its massive carcass nestled in the equally massive hole it would have carved when it slammed into the bay. "What's the butcher's bill?"

"Half a dozen walking wounded, a couple of stretcher cases, no need for any body bags groundside. Thank the Goddess."

The invocation was muttered quietly, in an almost scathing tone.

"Groundside?" She looked back at Kef. The asari refused to met her gaze for some reason. "Why the hell are we still groundside at all?"

There was an audible intake of breath. "Fuck," Kef hissed angrily. She suddenly scrubbed at her eyes with her fists. When she eventually turned to face Ash, her gaze was hard. "The fucking Widow is gone."

Ash frowned. "Why would they leave?"

Kef shook her head. "You know as well as I do that they wouldn't leave. The _Widow_ is gone. That's why we're sitting on our asses on this fucking hillside, because there's no one coming for us."

It took several moments for the magnitude of what Kef was saying to sink in. Ash already knew that there was nothing that would compel the _Black Widow_ to leave orbit for any length of time. However to accept the fact that something had happened to her ship and the crew remaining onboard was one step too far.

Seven. There had been seven crew members left aboard the _Widow_. The flight crew. _Shit._ As painful as it was, Ash lifted her arm and laid a hand on Kefali's shoulder. The asari jerked away from the touch. Ash didn't attempt to say anything. A few moments later, Kef rose to her feet and stalked away into the darkness without looking back.

How had a non-descript detour turned into such a colossal fuck up?

Although Ash had no reason to doubt the word of her XO, she attempted to hail her ship from her own comms - if only to feel as though she were doing something useful. Nothing came back other than a resoundingly empty silence.

A ragged sigh escaped her lips. The sound was far too pitiful to convey the extent of her emotions - anger, frustration, devastation...but also an underlying selfish sense of relief. As meagre as it was, she still had her life.

_I suppose dying would have made my day a hell of a lot worse_ , Ash thought. Although the one consolation was that she wouldn't be around to face the consequences of her failure. There were a lot of things she wouldn't be around for. That thought brought a stinging sensation to her own eyes. _Stop it, you idiot, you're alive for the time being._

Footsteps interrupted her morose thoughts. Ash recognised Fletch's gait while he was still a shadowy outline. He offered up a respectful nod and hunkered down in front of her. The veteran had escaped largely unscathed physically. He'd also seen enough of war to keep a level head. Ash suddenly realised that she was acting like an FNG fresh out of boot.

"Gavin hasn't left your side all night," he said in a calm voice. "Panicked a bit when the doc said you might not wake. I told her to pull her shit together, that you're a tough son of a bitch. Did she fill you in?"

"About the stuff that counts," Ash replied. "After hearing about the _Widow_ I didn't want to press for anything else. What's the long range comm situation?"

"Fubar. I've had people on it, but the gear here had already been wrecked beyond repair. The beacon that we picked up is the only signal going out."

"Fantastic." The pounding in Ash's head intensified. "I'm probably going to need you to step up, Fletch. Until further notice. Sorry to dump you into the shit."

"It's fine, ma'am." He shook his head slowly. "Danny...he was a top bloke. Kef's pretty wrecked."

"Yeah," Ash replied with a shake of her head. "They were finally talking about having kids. Danny had been trying for about a decade to get Kef to admit that she even wanted a family. Idiots, this is the wrong line of work to make those kind of plans."

"You and I both know better," Fletch agreed. "Better to be alone than leave someone behind."

Ash nodded absently. "You got anything to drink?"

"Hell no, ma'am. The doc has already shot you full of shit. I let you have a drink and she'll have my hide. You should go and find somewhere to rest."

"No, I need to get off my ass," Ash said stubbornly.

She'd subconsciously clenched her hands into tight, white-knuckled fists. Her anger surfaced again and she drove one fist into the dirt beside her.

"Ma'am?" Fletch was clearly concerned.

"Fuck!" Ashley muttered in exasperation. ""We shouldn't have even been on this fucking rock let alone at the same time that a Reaper decides to do a swan dive on our fucking heads."

* * *

 

Despite her best intentions, Ash couldn't lift a digging implement let alone join the rest of her squad as they hacked at the stony ground. She was reduced to the role of a spectator as those that were able toiled at the thankless task of burying the dead. It was wretched stuff, but most preferred it to simply sitting on their hands and waiting for rescue.

The only consolation was that dawn had brought with it a cloudless day. Aite's winter sun utterly lacked warmth, but it was enough to drive away the shadows of the previous night.

Daylight had revealed the dead Reaper lying in the shallow water of the bay below. The impact had been enough to leave its carapace a shattered and twisted wreck. The Reaper lay motionless, casting an eerie pall over the surrounding landscape with its presence.

Ash hadn't seen a Reaper in such a state since the War. It's carcass held a fascination for those in the squad who were too young to remember '86 and she'd overheard Fletch firmly reject Beams' request to take a closer look. The kid was insane.

Plus, there were more pressing concerns than dozens of bodies. First and foremost was how quickly she herself would be joining them in death.

Ash obediently tilted her head to one side as their Corpsman injected a hypospray into her neck. The effect was barely noticeable. Some of the pain receded, but she still felt as though her head was splitting apart. The Doc then checked her vitals for what felt like the hundredth time. Ash didn't need medical training to know that she was in trouble.

"How long do you give me, Doc?" Ash asked impatiently. She was far too old to be protected from the truth.

"Um...the impact did significant damage...and it doesn't help that past injuries make you more susceptible to head trauma-"

Ash cut her off with a curt grunt. "You don't need to fill me in on my own damn medical history. How long?"

"Twelve hours...a day at most...and that's only if you don't have a sudden episode prior. If that happens, you might be looking at permanent damage, regardless of whether you receive treatment in time."

_Just my luck to die on a shithole planet like this_ , Ash thought after dismissing the relieved Corpsman. Still, she'd had enough close calls in her life that it could have been any one of a number of shitty planets throughout the Galaxy. Eden Prime, before Shepard and her squad rescued her green ass from the geth. Virmire, where she should have died instead of Kaidan Alenko. He'd been the senior officer, not to mention the better marine. And the better person. Ash had let her guilt from that mission simmer for a long time. Then there was Mars, where she'd had her ass handed to her by a synthetic and spent a good three months of the War lying at Huerta Memorial. Her penchant for almost dying hadn’t stopped with the War.

Even after all this time, Ash was unsure whether to feel satisfied or resentful at the turn her life had taken.

Kef sought Ash out a few hours later. The asari had thrown herself into the task of burying the dead – something she would never have the opportunity to do for her own bondmate – and was covered in a filmy layer of dirt and sweat.

They remained in silence for several minutes. Both simply stared out at the Reaper.

"You look like crap, boss," Kef eventually offered sympathetically.

"I've felt worse," Ash replied with a slight shrug.

"Bullshit."

Ash sighed. "Maybe it is, but I'm not unloading on you, Kef. Not today."

"How long have we known each other, Williams? Twelve years? Thirteen? Today has been an undeniable clusterfuck, but I haven't suddenly stopped being your friend. I…" Kef paused and looked down at her feet. Neither of them did feelings particularly well, especially not ones that they had to give voice to. "I don't want to lose you as well."

Kef's admission came as something of a shock to Ash. She trusted the crew of the Black Widow with her life, but she kept them all at arm's length – even someone that she'd known for over a decade. It was increasingly probable that she wouldn't make it off Aite. If that circumstance eventuated, no one would know the intimate details of her life. There would be no one to pass on her personal messages. Separation of work and personal life had always been a deliberate choice.

After all, her personal life was…complicated.

"Unfortunately, you're going to be stuck with me for a long time yet," Ash replied in a firm voice. "Takes more than being hit on the head-"

She paused. Studied the earnest expression on the asari's face. Wondered if it wouldn't be better to finally just let go. Hell, if she really was going to die…

"Shit. If this goes south, I need you to do something for me – deliver a message," Ash began slowly.

Obvious surprise showed on Kef's face. "Anything, anywhere," she replied vehemently.

Ash's confession was interrupted by an all too familiar sound. The pair looked up to see a shuttle making a wide circle over the settlement. Even through the fog that clouded her vision, Ash made out the Alliance markings on the side.

"We are continuing this conversation at a later date," Kef said firmly. "In the meantime, it looks as though the Alliance is going to save your ass."

"Fucking great," Ash muttered, trying to push herself to stand. "Help me up would you. There's no way I'm sitting down for this."

After completing its landing pattern, the shuttle – an upgraded version of the old Alliance Kodiak – came into land at the heart of the settlement.

The landing wasn't accompanied by any enthusiastic whoops of joy, just an air of palpable relief that another day wouldn't be spent amongst Aite's dead. Ash stood, leaning heavily on Kef to even remain standing.

With the engines powered down, the door opened. The shuttle disgorged its complement of armoured Alliance grunts, weapons at the ready. Ash's jaw tightened. Same old Alliance. Shoot first, ask questions later. A uniformed officer brought up the rear. A small, unimposing woman with dark, neatly cropped hair. Initially Ash simply felt a sense of familiarity.

Recognition slowly dawned as the woman approached.

It was Samantha Traynor.

Or, if one cared for such trivialities, _Admiral_ Traynor.

* * *

 

**The Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

_{You assured me delivery, Broker. One hundred thousand units.}_

Liara T'Soni stared intently at the view screen in front of her, jaw tightening with frustration and an extreme aversion to the loathsome human on the other end of the connection.

Francesca Bancroft – self-styled pirate queen.

Unfortunately for everyone else in the Galaxy, Bancroft was more than just a self-styled pirate queen. Over the past two decades she had built up an impressive fleet that would rival that of most asari city states. And, more unfortunately for everyone in the Galaxy, she was an all-around cunt.

Liara suppressed the petulant desire to mouth 'fuck you' at the woman on screen. The corresponding image at the other end would show nothing other than the faceless sim that Liara habitually used. Unfortunately, it wouldn't address the severity of the situation she had created.

_{This is merely a courtesy call,}_ Bancroft continued, looking altogether bored as she absently toyed with one of her earrings. _{The agreed deadline has passed and I don't have so much as a single unit, let alone the amount we agreed on. We'll be scorching that poxxy little colony.}_

"That would be a monumental mistake-"

_{No,}_ The pirate suddenly lurched forward, eyes wide in a fairly convincing impression of madness. _{It was a fucking monumental mistake to accept your deal in the first place. Made me look soft in front of my captains. You've left me with no choice other than to show no mercy, or I'll be staring down the barrel of a mutiny.}_

The communication terminated abruptly. Bancroft disappeared and Liara was left to pummel an angry fist into her haptic display. She allowed herself a moment of fury before she returned to work, fingers flying across the display, tapping out a message for Asari High Command. It would arrive as an anonymous tip off in the inbox of a capable asari Matriarch, conveniently informing them of the exact whereabouts of Bancroft's fleet, and a tactical analysis of their capabilities.

"Trust me," Liara hissed angrily as she pushed 'send'. "It will be a mistake, you goddess-damned bitch."

"What have I done now?"

Liara didn't bother looking over her shoulder at the interruption. "I am not talking about you, Dad. At least not this time."

Boots rapped out on the tiles, approaching Liara's work station. Even with some distance between them, Liara caught an immediate whiff of strong liquor radiating off the Matriarch Aethyta. She rolled her eyes as she continued writing a second message, this time intended for one of her agents.

"Have you no sense of restraint?" Liara scolded. "It is much too early."

"Not when you haven't been to bed yet," the Matriarch replied jauntily.

Message sent, Liara finally turned to find her father wearing the shit-eating grin of a recalcitrant maiden - as well as the commando leathers to match. The grin disappeared when Aethyta recognised the tension on her face. Liara had become adept at hiding her emotions, but it was damned hard to hide anything from someone who had lived for almost a millennia.

"What's eating you, kid?"

Liara scrubbed at her weary eyes. She too hadn't been to bed, although for reasons not remotely similar to her father's. "I have made a terrible mistake."

"So? Even the Broker fucks up." Aethyta shrugged.

"Not the kind that has the potential to cost thousands of lives." Liara shook her head softly in disbelief. "It barely even seemed a gamble," she explained, more for her own benefit than her father's. Had it seemed too simple? "Bancroft's fleet simply wanted a vaccine for virulent outbreak of Bactian simial flu. Their solution was to steal it from the source - a small asari colony on the fringes of the Traverse. More than likely wiping out the colonists in the process. I had a choice - to take the information to Asari High Command, or to arrange a trade. I chose the latter. The colony for the vaccine. "

Aethyta frowned. "I don't know what kind of a definition you have for 'trade', but that sure as hell isn't it. Aren't you supposed to get something you actually want in return?"

"I wanted lives. The lives of the colonists, the lives of the innocents on the ships in Bancroft's fleet. If Asari High Command decides to intervene, there will be casualties on all sides. Too many."

"I guess it's your show. I still can't see how you fucked up."

"The vaccine was never delivered," Liara explained. "Bancroft thinks that the Broker has reneged on the deal, when what I actually have is a missing agent."

The Matriarch pursed her lips thoughtfully. "How much is that vaccine worth on the open market?"

"The amount we are talking about? A little over two million -" Liara stopped and shook her head. "I know the way your mind works, Dad, and that is absolutely not the case. Not on this job."

"You'd be surprised how good two million credits can look to someone," Aethyta replied perfunctorily. "Even a previously loyal agent. You gotta start expecting the worst, every damn time."

Liara met her father's unassuming gaze. Aethyta simply said it like it was. There was no malice in the words, just a cold, hard reality born of a lifetime of pain and loss. She then shook her head vehemently.

"Not everyone can be corrupted, Dad." She resumed studying her screens, looking for any new information. "This is not a betrayal, something has happened."

"You might have lost someone? So what? Everyone is replaceable. And so what if Asari High Command want to go and kick the shit out of a pirate fleet? They're fucking pirates! They would've had it coming," Aethyta pointed out emphatically. "You win some, you lose some. I've been trying to tell you to harden up for the past twenty-five years. C'mon, let's go get a drink."

"No, I need to find out what happened," Liara said, hoping her voice didn't sound overly desperate.

"Why? Who did you send on that job?"

A small sigh escaped her lips. "I needed someone I could trust implicitly."

"Ah, Fuck." Aethyta slapped herself on the forehead as realisation dawned. "Me and my fucking big mouth. I'm sorry, kid."


	4. Operative Lawson's Prerogative

**2185 CE**

**_Normandy_ ** **SR-2**

The _Normandy_ has been reduced to little more than a flying hulk in the wake of their successful escape from the Omega-4 relay. Scorched and blackened, the frigate is an outward reflection of the team within. Shepard's team. Every last one of them still breathing, although not all of them quite fitting the same definition of 'alive.'

Some carry physical wounds. Vakarian is the worst off. The steely-eyed Turian took a round to the gut during the heaviest fighting. He is unconscious in the medbay beneath Chakwas' hawk like care. For some strange reason the Quarian is hovering by his bed side. Others - Massani, Kasumi, and Jacob Taylor – have escaped with flesh wounds that will heal in time.

More importantly, the Collector base has been destroyed. No one can say that the mission has been anything other than an unqualified success.

It's what Miranda would have written in her post-action report if she still worked for Cerberus. However in the heat of the moment she 'tendered' her resignation. It felt good at the time. She still can't decide what felt more satisfying – seeing the Illusive Man's expression betray actual surprise, or the look of relief on Shepard's face.

_If_ she still worked for Cerberus. The fact is still sinking in. For the past sixteen years, Cerberus had been her life. Now it's simply gone. Instead she's sitting in her office late into the night cycle, staring at a blank screen.

Save for a kaleidoscope of scrapes and bruises Miranda escaped the Collector base unscathed, but emotionally she feels… _off_. For once in her carefully regimented life, she doesn't know what she's going to be doing tomorrow. She's no longer sure what to think or feel about…well, everything. Walking out on Cerberus is only one of her problems.

Jack's another. The ex-convict represents everything that Miranda isn't. She loathes Jack.

But Jack saved her life when it would have been effortless to let her die. Miranda doesn't know if the loathing can or should continue.

However they haven't spoken since. Miranda suspects that speaking might help. She could thank Jack, in turn Jack would tell her to go fuck herself. Equilibrium would be restored.

The thought remains hypothetical. Miranda doesn't want to talk to Jack any more than she wants to talk to Shepard.

Of course she's had conversations with _Normandy's_ CO over the past few hours. Perfunctory, work-related conversations about repairs and planning for the future. Never alone, always in a group. The rest of the time Miranda has kept herself busy, anywhere that Shepard is not.

Miranda doesn't even know if it is an issue for Shepard, but she can't stop thinking about their conversation less than twelve hours earlier. The one where she'd responded to Shepard's honest declaration of love with a crude, scathing rebuke. Miranda hasn't been in such a state of agitation since she 'stole' Oriana and fled from her father's house.

Of course it must be an issue for Shepard. It wasn't simple lust. Shepard didn't want to fuck her. The word 'love' had been involved. And Miranda definitely doesn't know how she feels about that word, not in this context. Not in regards to Shepard.

Finally she breaks, pushes her chair back from the desk. A quiet huff of frustration escapes her lips. She knows that avoiding Shepard isn't the answer. Miranda appreciates Shepard's friendship. If she's being entirely honest with herself, she misses their effortless conversations. She misses Shepard's company.

For entirely platonic reasons.

"EDI, locate Commander Shepard."

_{Commander Shepard is in her quarters.}_

Miranda is never sure whether the AI's contemptuous tone is reserved solely for her. She pushes back her chair and rises, stretching out of habit, and a small amount of nerves. It's late, but if there's one person on board who sleeps almost as little as Miranda does, it's Shepard.

_{Interrupting the Commander would be…ill-advised,}_ EDI continues in a perfunctory voice.

She pauses mid-step. "Shepard's sleeping?"

_{Commander Shepard is otherwise occupied.}_

Her heart skips a beat. "Alone?"

_{Protocol dictates that I respect Shepard's privacy,}_ EDI replies tersely.

"I could override those protocols," Miranda snaps. She's unsure why she's incensed by the idea that Shepard is off-limits. Or that Shepard might have company.

_{That is your prerogative, Operative Lawson.}_ EDI's an AI, but Miranda detects a distinct hint of disapproval in her voice.

Miranda returns to her chair and sits heavily. She resumes staring at her screen for a few moments. All too aware that she is feeling distinctly petulant. Something snaps, she suddenly starts tapping out a series of commands in an angry staccato. Brings up _Normandy's_ camera network. Mercifully, Miranda manages to arrest her impulsive, irrational actions before she connects to the camera in the Crow's Nest. Her finger hovers above the command for a few seconds, before she cancels the request altogether.

Disappointed with herself, Miranda pushes her chair away from the desk. It's late and she's so very tired.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

It's a state of wakening that Miranda has not been in for some time. Warm, content, flushed with pleasure...and having difficulty establishing exactly which of the limbs tangled about her body were her own. In a rare moment of indulgence, she made no move to change anything other than to reach out and absently stroke the naked flank nestled against her own. There was an answering murmur of pleasure in the same rich, throaty voice that Miranda had heard often throughout the preceding evening. She felt warm breaths fall on her neck, followed by a series of kisses that left no doubt as to their purpose.

Still barely out of slumber, Miranda's body stirred in response. Instinctively she applied pressure with the palm of her hand, coaxing the weight atop her own. The warm body above her responded hungrily, nudging Miranda's legs apart with a well-placed thigh. A finger was already being dragged against her core. Miranda felt rather than saw the appreciative smile as her partner discovered just how quickly her body had responded.

With insistent movements of her hips, Miranda urged haste - partly a result of her need, but more out of expedience. After all, her schedule would not allow her to waste further time lying around naked, as pleasurable as it was. She growled in frustration as her request was ignored.

Miranda opened her eyes and found Nea Skouros looking down at her, eyes bright even in the darkness. The asari deliberately withheld the touch that Miranda craved, instead reaching up to cup her face almost tenderly.

"Why won't you let me in?" Nea probed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Although not offering Miranda exactly what she wanted, Nea's body continued to undulate, hinting at more to come. It remained frustratingly out of reach. Nea's gaze was also unsettling with its intensity. Miranda wanted to look away, but instead forced herself to hold it.

"I told you-"

"I haven't forgotten," Nea interrupted Miranda's limp answer. "But, if you'll forgive me for being honest, I do not think that is what you want."

"Who are you to presume what I want?" Miranda replied, barely keeping the irritation from her voice.

Miranda saw Nea's white teeth flash in a broad smile. A gentle kiss was offered up as an apology. Miranda was unable to offer up any sort of protest, especially as the kiss deepened. A part of her did feel aggrieved at the fact that the asari was such a good kisser, especially when Nea broke the kiss whilst she was still searching for more.

"It must be difficult."

"What?"

Nea cocked her head to one side. "To be so desperately lonely."

Miranda's entire body stiffened at the words, which she heard as an accusation. Nea picked up on her discomfort. The wonderfully warm weight disappeared. Rather than show any signs of reluctance, Miranda transitioned smoothly into a sitting position. Her head swam slightly at the abrupt movement, but she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Before she could stand, Miranda felt a touch on the small of her back. She dared not look over her shoulder.

"Forgive me, Miranda, I did not mean to offend. It is just that I find myself surprised and confused. The woman I met over dinner was distant and cold, yet I have since discovered that you are neither of those things."

"Why? Because we fucked you think that gives you some special insight?" Miranda's voice was colder than she intended, if only to avoid the asari probing any further into uncomfortable territory. She had absolutely no interest in being psychoanalysed by her one night stand.

"Perhaps," Nea replied softly. "Now come back to bed...please?"

Despite the awkward conversation, Miranda couldn't deny the fact that the invitation was tempting. Although she had no intention of giving into Nea, she had enjoyed their time together immensely. The previous evening had quickly transformed from being a near disaster into one of the most memorable of the past few years. If that fact in itself made Miranda an object of pity, then she was determined not to dwell on it. Although Miranda usually spent the weekend working, there was nothing pressing requiring her attention.

After all, she had literally brought her work home with her...

_The weekend. Fuck!_ Miranda's gaze quickly focused on the discreet holo beside the bed, innocently depicting the time. The reminder drove her swiftly from the bed, soft lights responding to the movement. She crossed to the wardrobe, almost forgetting about Nea as she hastened to find something to throw on.

"Miranda? Is something wrong?"

"No!"

Miranda hastily dragged on a hoodie and a pair of well worn sweatpants. She cast her gaze back to the bed to find Nea sprawled on her back, everything laid bare in an annoyingly inviting fashion. A groan escaped her lips, both at the sight of her bed partner and, subsequently, the sight of herself in a nearby mirror. She looked exactly like someone who had just woken up after a night of fucking. With deft fingers, she tied her hair back.

"I need to make a call," Miranda explained whilst scurrying about her room. "Please make yourself at home." She paused and frowned, wondering what on earth had compelled her to extend such an invitation. It was usual practice for her to politely eject her partners from her home as soon as practically possible. Somehow it didn't feel right. "Um...the shower is just through that door, and there's breakfast, or at least things to make breakfast with, downstairs. I shouldn't be too long."

Leaving the bemused asari lying in bed, Miranda made her way downstairs and gratefully shut herself in the sanctuary of her office.

_Please make yourself at home?Where the bloody hell did that come from?_ Miranda asked as she took a seat in front of her terminal. Even as she initiated her system, she wondered why she hadn't simply called a taxi.

The call connected smoothly, video initialising at almost the precise moment that Miranda discovered a large bruise on her collarbone. She zipped up her hoodie as Oriana's face came into view.

"And I was beginning to think you'd forgotten," her sister announced without so much as a hello.

"I'm sorry, Ori, something came up."

"Something always comes up." Oriana frowned for a moment. "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like an absolute mess-" Oriana's lips parted in sudden amazement. "Oh my god! Don't tell me you've been doing what I think you've been doing?"

"For heaven's sake, we're far too old to play these games." Miranda felt her cheeks growing warm beneath Oriana's intense scrutiny. "So I had sex. That still happens occasionally."

"I know, but you don't usually look like...well, like you've just tumbled out of bed in a hurry." Oriana's eyes narrowed in suspicious amusement. A smile formed. "She's still there, isn't she?"

"I didn't call so you could scrutinise my life!" Miranda protested.

Oriana laughed. It was a delighted sound. Miranda found herself unable to keep a serious expression on her face. The corners of her lips tugged upwards. With everything that her sister had been through recently, it felt good to hear Oriana laugh - even if the laugh came at her own expense.

"Stop being a pain in the arse, little sister," Miranda said, her cheeks well and truly scorching hot. "I called to speak to Aaron."

"I'll get him for you." Oriana stood, but paused in staring at the screen for a moment. She reached out towards it gently, as though touching Miranda's face. "Hey, Miri...I can't remember the last time I saw you look so relaxed. I'm really pleased."

Miranda spent the time waiting for Aaron trying to make herself more presentable. While it was unlikely that Aaron was as intuitive as her sister - or likely to even say anything - she felt self-conspicuous. However, by the time Aaron's smiling face came into view, Miranda had only managed to draw even more attention to her casual appearance.

"Hey, Aunt Miri."

It had always been difficult to see anything of Greg in the young man in front of her. Miranda always thought that because she was biased towards her sister, but even as Aaron grew older nothing changed. He sat in front of the screen with pale skin, dancing blue eyes and a thatch of perfectly groomed black hair. The only un-Lawson thing about him, was his sharp nose.

"Just finished working out?" Aaron continued.

"In a manner of speaking." Miranda hurried to change the subject. "Happy belated birthday. How does it feel to be eighteen?"

Aaron shrugged. "Pretty much the same as seventeen-" His expression suddenly morphed into a delighted grin. "-except now I have a car! Best present ever, seriously. I can't thank you enough. Mum hit the roof, she thinks I can't be trusted with the responsibility. I think she's just worried about the whole turning eighteen thing."

"It must be unnerving for her," Miranda pointed out even though she hardly felt qualified to offer advice. She simply spoke from her own point of view, remembering Aaron as a chubby little toddler learning to walk, talk and develop into his own person. Seeing him as a young man was really quite terrifying. "Eighteen is a significant number, I suppose she's worried that you won't need her anymore."

Aaron snorted. "She's my Mum, and that's not going to change just because I've turned eighteen." He paused, bit his lip in trademark Lawson fashion. "Although it feels a little more mutual these days, with Greg finally leaving for good. I guess he was always missing from our lives anyway, but I still worry about her, about leaving her alone."

"You needn't worry about that, Aaron, your Mum would always want you to choose your own path. Whatever you want to do."

"I know, but there's something…well, I kind of wanted to get your advice on it...before I tell her that is."

"Anything, although with the proviso that I'm really not qualified to offer advice on...well, much at all," Miranda joked.

"Are you kidding? You know everything, Aunt Miri. You always have," Aaron said with child-like enthusiasm.

The compliment felt like a sting. Miranda knew how much Aaron looked up to her, but that advice had almost always come from a distance. Her nephew had turned eighteen and she'd simply picked a skycar from a virtual showroom. Granted the car was top of the line, but Miranda suspected that Aaron would have been more ecstatic had she shown up in person.

"What's on your mind?"

"I want to enlist...in the Alliance Navy," Aaron suddenly blurted out. "And I'm not sure how to break it to Mum. I think she's going to flip however I do it."

Miranda swallowed, fighting down her own urge to do just that. "Firstly are you sure that's what you want? Your results at school have been stellar, you could be anything-"

"Yeah, and I want to join the Navy." He paused and sighed audibly. "You don't approve?"

"Oh, Aaron, no that's not it. I guess...a part of me had always hoped that you would come and work for Lawson Dynamics. Wishful thinking on my part."

"Wow, I always thought you were joking about that. I'm flattered that you'd want me, but now that I've made my decision, I'm really looking forward to it. You'll keep that offer open for me though?"

Miranda smiled. "Always."

"Besides, I'll still be following in your footsteps with the SA."

"Well, technically I was never actually a part of the Alliance Navy. More like a...contractor," Miranda explained. She frowned. That was a flawed label. Contractors were supposed to be paid. "Regardless, it's been a while…but my name might still carry some weight. I could put in some calls-"

"Thanks awfully," Aaron interrupted quickly. He flashed an apologetic grin. "But if it's all the same, I'd rather get in on my own merit. I hope that makes sense."

Miranda managed to conceal her sigh of relief, but was unable to contain the swell of pride she felt when looking at the determination on her nephew's face. "It makes perfect sense – although they'd be daft not to have you."

She'd hoped she had been speaking the truth – that her name would still carry some weight amongst the top echelons of Alliance brass. However it had been years since she'd spoken to any of her former colleagues. Justified in some cases, not in others. Miranda banished the sense of loss that came with that thought. That life was so far removed from her present that it was easy to forget about. Or at least that was what Miranda told herself.

"And about telling your Mum, choose the right moment," Miranda continued quickly, effectively taking her mind off old memories. Aaron had been right with his initial assumption, Oriana would not take the announcement well. "Make sure you're honest with her about your reasons for enlisting. She's not going to like it but once she understands it's what you want, she'll support you all the way."

"Sure, you'll be the first to find out how it goes. And thanks again for the car." Aaron offered up a little wave and Miranda once again thought of him as a cheeky little kid. He'd grown up way too fast. "Sorry for keeping you from your workout, Aunt Miri."

"I wasn't…oh, sure, no worries. Take care of yourself, Aaron."

Aaron winked knowingly, and Miranda ended the call before her cheeks could flame more intensely than she had thought possible. Was she that obvious? The kid was eighteen and he was calling her out on her sex life!

Miranda slumped forward with her head cradled in her hands. She knew that Oriana would take great delight in drawing out her embarrassment for weeks to come, regardless of how many times she explained that it was simply a onetime thing and no, she wasn't going to be seeing the individual concerned again.

Part of her wanted to call a taxi, but Miranda felt a reluctance that she was unable to explain.

It wasn't until she heard sounds emanating from her kitchen that she stirred. She investigated, following a delightful scent to discover Nea Skouros with an array of pans and foodstuffs spread about her. The asari was unashamedly wearing one of Miranda's t-shirts and absolutely nothing else. The sunlight streaming through the windows set off Nea's deep violet skin perfectly, causing Miranda to simply stand and stare. It wasn't until Nea looked up that she made an attempt to move.

"I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of making myself at home in your kitchen. I thought I might make us breakfast?" Nea nodded towards the complex operation in progress as though it were nothing. "If you eat breakfast that is."

Thoroughly incapable of saying anything intelligent, Miranda simply slid into one of the seats at the breakfast bar and nodded, a weak smile on her face. There was only one coherent thought in her brain – that Nea Skouros wore a t-shirt better than anyone she had ever met.

* * *

 

**SSV _Santiago_ , In transit**

"You are a very lucky individual, Ms Williams. Another few hours and your outcome would have been quite different."

Ashley stared at the _Santiago's_ doctor with barely concealed loathing. _Ms Williams?_ She hadn't been called that in...well, forever. He was a condescending little prick who knew full well that the woman lying on the biobed outranked him.

_Used to outrank him,_ Ashley had to remind herself yet again. _You haven't been Captain Williams since this joker was a snotty kid covered in pimples._ Luck had nothing to do with it. She was too damn stubborn to die.

The tension was making her head hurt again. The source was obvious. The _Santiago_ was an Alliance cruiser. Ash had sworn never to set foot on an Alliance vessel ever again. Yet here she was, and they'd saved her life to boot. It was an exercise in humiliation.

"It's just Williams, Lieutenant," Ash pointed out in her politest voice. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to keep her movements as smooth as possible. "Now if you'd kindly point me in the direction of your CO, I'll get out of your hair."

"You need at least twelve hours-" the Lieutenant began to protest. However he smartly bit his lip when he recognised the look in Ash's eyes for what it was - a willingness to break limbs without breaking a sweat. "I'll find you something to wear."

* * *

 

Clad in Alliance issue cargos and a mercifully unadorned sweatshirt, Ash found Samantha Traynor in the War Room. The former comms specialist greeted her with a relieved smile, refreshing for its honesty. Time had removed some of the softness from Sam's features whilst adding worry lines and a few errant grey hairs amidst neatly cropped black hair.

At one time Ash would never have expected the woman she knew to rise so high in the ranks, but she could see the reasons more clearly with hindsight. Sam had always been a model of efficiency and calm, something that had been desperately needed in the months and years following the War. Not to mention the fact that the woman had possessed an intimidating intelligence far beyond the average junior officer. Ash was reminded how moronic she had always felt in Sam's presence.

"You're looking much improved, Ashley," Sam said warmly. "Not to mention the fact that it's good to see you."

"Likewise, Traynor." Ash was surprised to find that she actually meant it. While there had never been a great deal between them beyond serving together on the _Normandy_ SR-2, she'd always liked the woman. "Can't say the same for the ride, even though I guess I owe you guys for saving my ass. Do I need to ask you what the hell you were doing on Aite?"

Sam raised her eyebrows. "The more appropriate question is what you and your crew were doing there?"

Ash shrugged. "I asked the question first."

"Fine," Sam replied, apparently unperturbed by Ashley's audacity. Turning her back on Ashley, Sam turned to a nearby screen and started initiating a call. "I don't suppose I need to tell you that everything said here is to remain between us?"

"You know that won't happen, so why bother telling me at all?"

Sam shrugged. "Habit. At least promise me you'll be nice?"

"Nice?"

The call connected. Ash suddenly found herself looking down at the weathered visage of Fleet Admiral Stephen Hackett. To her credit, she managed to limit her reaction to a slight sneer, quickly wiped before Hackett focused on her. When his eyes widened in obvious surprise, Ash couldn't help but feel some sense of self-satisfaction. Almost two decades since they'd last seen each other, and she had another chance to piss the old fool off.

"Sir, I have Ashley Williams with me. She and her team were the first on the ground, responding to the distress beacon originating from Aite. I'm making the call to bring her in on this."

_{Your mission, your call, Traynor.}_ Hackett turned his attention back to Ash. _{It's good to see you again, Williams.}_

"Hackett." It was as much of a greeting as he was going to get.

Unperturbed, Hackett focused back on Sam. _{You reached Aite?}_

"We did sir, although much too late to find anything except the aftermath. Unfortunately this incident was markedly worse than the others."

"The others?" Ash immediately picked up. "You mean to tell me that this wasn't an isolated incident?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't had time to bring Williams fully up to speed," Sam apologised.

Ash thought that the Admiral didn't sound particularly sincere with her apology. As though Sam was not overly concerned to have Hackett's approval.

"Bring me in on what, Sam?" Ash demanded. Her instincts were kicking in, and none of the signs she was picking up were particularly encouraging.

_{Go ahead, Traynor,}_ Hackett added, his motivations were unrecognisable in the even tone of his voice.

Sam turned to look her in the eye, arms folded in a casual but determined stance. "What transpired on Aite was possibly the fourth such occurrence. Several months ago an asari frigate picked up a distress call from a small mining operation on the edge of Council space. It was barely coherent, but the crux was that some of the population appeared to have gone mad. When Asari High Command investigated, they found a scene similar to the one you found on Aite, complete with a deactivated Reaper – although the casualties were only a few dozen. Concurrently a small team of geologists stationed on Nepheron in the Voyager cluster were also attacked under identical circumstances. This time discovered by an Alliance unit."

"You're viewing these incidents as attacks? By Reapers?" Ash shook her head. "That's impossible. Reapers haven't attacked anything since the Pulse. The Council spent years investing considerable effort in assuring everyone that they are benevolent. Now their presence is simply accepted…even welcomed."

"And I spent ten years leading on the research arm of that project - studying them, attempting to find some explanation for what happened to them in the wake of the Pulse," Sam continued, somewhat impatiently. "Believe me, I know how unprecedented this is…but I'm also intimately aware of the ramifications of these attacks becoming public knowledge."

"You can say that again," Ash muttered. "Why did you say it was possibly the fourth occurrence?"

"I don't know how much you know about our work, but I have indirect oversight over teams that monitor the presence of every Reaper in the Galaxy. It's a gargantuan task but, by and large, we manage. Occasionally single ships will drop out of contact, especially in the Terminus or certain dead zones, but it's very rare that we lose contact for long. Some weeks prior to both attacks, a research team under my command lost track of a vessel that had been behaving strangely – following no discernible flight plan, backtracking on itself. When they re-established contact, it had impacted on a remote moon in the Hades Nexus. We now think that it's somehow related to the others, especially when our attention was drawn to the Reaper that since crashed on Aite with similar behaviour."

"What the hell have they been doing to the colonists?" Ash demanded.

Sam looked back down at Hackett. He offered up a simple nod before she continued. "Evidence suggests that it was a form of indoctrination."

"Indoc-" Ash stopped herself and shook her head. "Wait. Why the hell are you telling me all of this?"

"You can already see why we've worked with the Council to conceal this, but we desperately need more resources without drawing attention to ourselves. Ash, we need you…and the additional help that you can bring to the table."

_{If we don't find a solution, and these incidents continue or intensify, we could possibly have a Galaxy-wide panic on our hands.}_ Hackett still possessed his talent for stating the obvious.

"I agree, you will," Ash replied caustically. "This is all very fascinating, and I'm so fucking pleased that I could once again be a part of the Alliance's cryptic bullshit, but you've got the wrong woman. Go find yourselves a SpecTRe."

"I don't trust SpecTRes half as much as I trust you, Williams," Sam said earnestly.

_{If Admiral Traynor wants you on this, Williams, then I'd seriously consider her request if I were you,}_ Hackett announced in his slow drawl. _{We'll rendezvous back at Shepard Station, I'll debrief you both and we can move forward from there. Hackett out.}_

The call cut out, leaving Ash fuming whilst staring at the blank screen. When she turned to look at Sam, she expected to find an apologetic expression. Instead Sam merely looked expectant.

Ash shook her head. "This is in no way any reflection on you, Sam, in fact I can honestly say that seeing you again has been a real pleasure, but Hackett and all of his cronies can go fuck themselves. I'm not coming with you to Shepard, period."

"We don't deserve that."

"Who's we? My so-called friends? Or the Alliance?"

Sam folded her arms across her chest and frowned disapprovingly. "I am your friend. The Alliance doesn't deserve your ire. You chose to resign your commission."

"Did I really?" Ashley demanded, trying to keep her temper in check. Her painkillers must have been wearing off as her head was pounding. She tried to calm herself. "Look me in the eye and tell me that I had any sort of choice."

"Ash, please, I wasn't the one that forced you into that position. You know as well as I do that those were desperate times. I'd hoped you would be able to put what happened behind you for something so important. I wouldn't have brought you in on this if I didn't think you weren't the right person for the job." The admiral stepped forward and reached up to place a hand on Ash's shoulder. "I'm asking you as an old friend, please. Come with me to Shepard Station, hear us out and then make your decision."

A part of Ash wanted to be able to do as Sam suggested, to put what had happened behind her. However simply being back in the Alliance's clutches brought all the memories crashing back, even though it had all taken place two decades earlier. Making excuses by saying they were 'desperate times' didn't help one iota.

"Are you going to force me to come with you?" Ash asked quietly.

"Of course not."

"Then my answer is no."

Sam shook her head, a disappointed expression on her face. "You're a self-centred idiot, Ashley Williams, you always were! You already know what is at stake-"

"Just stop," Ash interrupted firmly. "We're still friends, Sam, and I would like it to stay that way, but I'm going home."


	5. Immortalised in Bronze

**2186 CE**

**Guangzhou, Earth**

Miranda stares at her open bag. She's never felt such hate for an inanimate object. It sits there, waiting to swallow her life yet again.

The weeks and months since the _Normandy's_ return from the Omega-4 relay have passed in an almost seamless blur – made up entirely of running and hiding. It's a cycle that will repeat itself for the foreseeable future, taking its toll with each passing day. Miranda doesn't find much time to look at herself in the mirror, but the glimpses she catches look like someone else altogether. Someone who doesn't eat or sleep, let alone have a beauty regime.

Thoroughly demoralising, dehumanising. Miranda knows she only has herself to blame. It's what she always knew would happen if she ever left Cerberus under such circumstances. If she ever abandoned _him_.

The reality is that, after sixteen years amongst the top echelons of Cerberus, she knows too much. And the Illusive Man isn't one to take risks. Her life has been reduced to a loose end.

One that needs to be shorn off without delay.

The catch is that Miranda isn't prepared to simply sit idly and wait for Cerberus assassins to find her. She has no qualms about pissing Jack Harper off even further and she has no intention of begging for her life. Hence the hiding and running. Sustained by the knowledge that resources are being expended to hunt her down.

Miranda knows she needs to leave the city. After almost a month in one place, a dangerous sense of complacency is starting to set in. The herbalist that lives downstairs – a middle aged man with kind eyes – has taken to leaving packets of herbs by her door. The cook at her favourite noodle bar knows her name. Not her real name of course, just the name she has given herself this month. Even more problematic is the doctor who works at the clinic a few blocks over. A simple connection over a swapped takeaway had felt like normality. On their third encounter, Miranda hadn't even tried to stop the kiss that eventuated, surrendering as though it was her first kiss in years.

It was, but she's still kicking herself over this mistake - annoyed at the fact that she can’t ignore her desires.

The bag sits, waiting patiently for her few possessions. In her exhaustion Miranda contemplates staying. At least for another week or two. She could work out a way to set up a secure vid call to Oriana. So far, her fledgling relationship with her sister has been reduced to sporadic, detached emails and exchanges on random messaging sites. Still, the kid clearly loves her, enough to be fiercely angry at the fact that Miranda refuses to ask the Alliance for help. Oriana doesn't understand how these things work. The Alliance owes Miranda nothing.

The only person who might be inclined to help her is rotting in a detention facility in Vancouver.

Miranda sighs, starts feeding items into the willing bag.

It's well into the evening when she leaves the building. Dark enough to add a sense of security. Miranda slips into the crowd, hood up against the light drizzle falling. Almost instinctively her feet carry her two blocks in the wrong direction.

She finds herself watching the busy window of one of the many noodle bars that line the street. A quick and easy solution for those disinclined or too busy to cook - like doctors. The young woman in question is already waiting for an order, sheltering beneath the awning - hands tucked deep into her pockets, her cheeks rosy with cold. Without thinking, Miranda starts forward, ignoring the crowd as it flows around her. For a moment she allows herself to believe that she could lose herself here. It isn't any sort of life that she is used to, but Miranda knows she could do some good here. As Miranda draws near the doctor laughs at something said by one of the cooks. Light. Carefree.

Miranda stops. It doesn't require much of an imagination to know what will happen if assassins pick up her trail here. Cerberus has no qualms about collateral damage. And hiding won't change the fact that the Reapers are still coming. She turns and walks away at pace.

It's better for everyone if she keeps running.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Shepard Station, Zion Orbit, Utopia System**

With post-mission checks and debriefs on the _Santiago_ finally complete, Samantha Traynor stepped out of the docking tube. Her first priority was to gulp in deep lungful of station air. While it wasn't exactly groundside, Shepard Station's advanced ecology made it the next best thing. Although there was plenty of work to be done analysing the mess they'd found on Aite, Sam looked forward to at least one night off. Robyn was already waiting for her at home, with the enticing promises of a G  & T and a long soak in the bath.

Sam refused an offer of help from a sailor and shouldered her own sea bag. Even an Admiral wasn't above carrying her own gear as far as the shuttle.

Out of habit, Sam glanced skyward at the ring that arced overhead. Still impressed, even after all these years. Shepard Station was the crown jewel of the Alliance. Although of the same Stanford Torus design as Arcturus, Shepard had almost twice the mass. Completed barely two years earlier, the station was now home to over 100,000 Alliance personnel and their families. Sam had always felt slightly ill at ease with the name, but she was in the minority. Humanity had wanted a fitting way to honour their fallen hero.

Her thoughts moved on as she neared the shuttle. Coming home always reminded her of the promise she'd made to Robyn. Two years max, then they'd finally buy that house with the picket fence that she'd been harping on about forever.

Over five years on the station, and they were no closer to realising that dream. Her promotion last year hadn't helped. Sam wore the mantle of Admiral well, but there was always the underlying regret that she'd devoted too much of her life to the Alliance. Still, she'd found time to get married to a wonderful woman and have a family. She just hated the fact that her kids had never known anything except a life in space.

"Yo, Traynor!"

A smirk crossed Sam's face. Only _Normandy_ vets got away with calling her anything but 'ma'am' these days.

She found Major James Vega standing beneath Shepard's statute. Sam didn't pay the bronze edifice much attention these days. Along with a few key _Normandy_ crew members, she'd been consulted in its design. They'd ensured that the representation was a tasteful reflection of the woman herself, not an inaccurate monstrosity with overly pronounced tits. Sam glanced upwards for a moment. Shepard stared at an indefinable point in the distance, N7 Hurricane clutched in one fist.

It was a good likeness. Too good.

Sam turned her attention back to Vega. The marine hadn't changed much since she'd last seen him about ten months earlier - although his close-cropped hair was salted with a little more grey and there was a pink-tinged scar above his right eye. Vega's well-worn N7 jacket hugged his thick arms as he folded them across his chest.

"Managed to find a razor then, Major?" Sam asked. Six months ago, Vega had also possessed an unkempt beard.

Sam greeted him with an outstretched hand which he promptly ignored and pulled her into a hug instead.

"Shit, I thought the beard suited me," Vega replied as he released her. He rubbed thoughtfully at his clean-shaven jaw. "Got kinda itchy inside my helmet so it had to go."

"Well, you look pretty good for the most part," Sam said warmly. She tapped her own forehead in reference to his scar. "Getting a little slow in your old age though?"

"You know me, I like a good souvenir to remind me of all the fun," Vega shrugged. "How's the wife and kids?"

"Brilliant," Sam replied quickly. "Robyn's just come back from overseeing the build of her latest design, and the twins are both at that awkward stage where being an adult can't come soon enough."

"Ha! Just wait until it hits them, then they'll wish they can hand the responsibility back," Vega commented.

"And I'll be left wondering where the hell all that time went," Sam added. She shook her head sadly, before recollecting her wandering thoughts. Her downtime was ticking away. As nice as it was to catch up with old friends, she had plans for the evening that didn't involve James Vega. "You're not standing here for idle chit chat, Vega. What can I do for you?"

He shook his head. "It's more like what I can do for you. Hackett called me in, assigned me to your team. Then scuttlebutt said that you were bringing Ash back to the station. Thought another friendly face might make this a little easier for her."

"You know as well as I do that you don't 'bring' Ashley Williams anywhere. She either chooses to come, or she doesn't. In this case it was the latter. Turned me down flat."

Vega raised his eyebrows. "So, she's still pissed then?"

"Like it was yesterday," Sam replied in a dry voice.

"Dios. Can't say I blame her though." Vega met Sam's indignant stare. "And you do?"

"C'mon, James," Sam said carefully. She didn't want this to get personal. "You know as well as I do that we needed them both. It was the only way."

Vega shrugged diplomatically. "I'm just a grunt, Admiral. Not gonna question things that are above my pay grade."

Sam offered up a bemused smile. "You never did, Vega. It's one of your most endearing qualities."

* * *

 

**Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

So complete was Ashley's exhaustion that she was barely aware of her boots hitting the ground as she entered the house. Darkness enveloped her, but she'd walked the same route so many times over the years that she knew where each step would take her. Ash caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, but she continued walking, knowing that the unseen figures watching her from the shadows preferred to remain that way, especially at this time of night.

Ash stifled a yawn. It was her own fault. She could have slept at some point during the journey from Typhon, but her thoughts kept her awake – even during the endless tedium of hyperspace. Kef had made a few attempts at conversation, but Ashley had firmly rebuffed them. With the threat of her demise no longer hanging over her head, Ash had no desire to share the private details of her life. At least not yet.

Instead Ash had – for the lack of a better word – sulked in private. Being drawn back into the world of the Alliance, even for a relatively brief period of time, had dredged up emotions that she had long since buried. Everything had come flooding back – anger, frustration, and the sting of betrayal. Ash thought she'd managed to leave everything behind, but clearly she wasn't over it. Even after two decades. Rising through the ranks of the Alliance had been all she'd ever wanted for herself. She didn't want to admit that part of her still wanted it.

As she walked, Ash tried to banish everything to the back of her mind. The Shadow Broker would want an update, not an angry rant driven by her emotions.

She'd always hated this part of the house. Largely shrouded in darkness out of necessity. No natural light to speak of. The Broker thought of it as a window on the Galaxy. Ash viewed it as a prison.

The Broker was outlined against the glare of surrounding screens. A veritable forest of sight and sound. A small figure in the midst of what appeared to be chaos. Ash knew better, but she'd long since ceased to be impressed.

She approached, deliberately emphasising her footsteps. The Broker's shoulders stiffened in surprise at the interruption, but softened only a split second later. There were very few people that the guards allowed so close without an announcement.

The Broker turned around in one fluid movement. Ash's mask of professionalism slipped in an instant, and she crossed the last of the distance with eager strides. Everything changed at the moment her arms wrapped around the body in front of her. Weight lifted from her shoulders. Her anger dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming relief. Ash refused to give into the burning sensation in her eyes, but she did give into the urge to claim the Broker's lips in a fierce kiss.

The kiss was all too brief, but it was enough to restore a measure of normalcy to Ash's thoughts. She drew back slightly, keeping a possessive grip around the Broker's waist.

Liara T'Soni regarded her through weary, but clearly relieved eyes.

It would have been effortless for Ash to lose herself in them, but shreds of her professionalism remained. She couldn't switch off, not yet. "Did you get my report?"

Liara blinked in disbelief. "You want to discuss your report?"

"Don't you?" Ash couldn't suppress her surprise. Liara always put her work first. Without fail. Usually it pissed Ash off, but she needed to remain as aloof and detached as possible in order to hold everything together. "I lost the _Widow_ , thereby inciting the possibility of a major galactic incident, what part of that wouldn't you want to grill me on?"

"I do not grill-" Liara paused and shook her head, as though refusing to be drawn into an argument. "I am more interested in the parts you omitted from your report, namely the part where you almost died."

Ash glowered. "How did you find...let me guess, Kef submitted her own report? That bloody treach-"

"She cares about you!" Liara interrupted, anger creeping into her tone. "As do I. Did you really think you could keep something like that from me? Why would you even want to?"

Chastened but defiant, Ash held Liara's gaze. "You already know the answer."

"That...that's not fair."

Sighing, Ash reached up and raked a thumb over Liara's cheek. They hadn't seen each other for over a month and the greeting had already descended into unnecessary vitriol. She'd had enough of that over the preceding hours.

She was home - the one place where she was supposed to be able to let go and be honest. Unfortunately that had been made all the more difficult fourteen months earlier when she'd almost died during what was supposed to be a routine information drop. Two other interested factions had transformed something mundane into one hell of a party. Ash had been caught in the crossfire. She'd woken up a week later with a new lung and more titanium than bone in her left arm.

Ever since Ash felt as though Liara had lost faith in her ability to get the job done. Each time Liara looked at her, Ash was reminded how fragile she was. This latest incident merely reinforced the fact that people in her line of work usually had a short lifespan.

"I'm sorry. I'm more than a little fried," she admitted, pressing her forehead against Liara's. Ash drank in the scent of her bondmate - floral tones mingled with tea and faint body odour - enough to tell her that Liara had been working for hours on end. "Being amongst Alliance personnel again...I thought I'd put it behind me, but I lost my temper with Samantha Traynor of all people."

"The passage of time cannot change what happened, Ashley." Liara whispered softly, tilting her head to press a gentle kiss against Ash's lips. "They made a choice, you made yours."

"And I'd do it all over again." Ash drew back, smiled sadly. "The old thoughts creep back though, where I'd wish Shepard had lived. I keep thinking that there's no way in hell the Commander would have let the Alliance do that to you."

"Shepard wasn't perfect. For all her many talents, there were problems that even she could not solve. She was human after all." Liara paused and tilted her head to one side with a thoughtful expression. "You have not spoken of her for some time."

"Being back there - amongst the Alliance - made it feel like it all happened yesterday. Like she was alive yesterday. Not the icon that they named a fucking station after." Ashley sneered for a moment. She hated that goddamn monstrosity and everything it stood for. "Just the marine who pulled me out of the mud on Eden Prime. The friend who told me to get my head out of my ass and stop seeing aliens as a threat. The friend who told me that there was nothing wrong with me when I admitted that I was in love with you."

"She was exceptionally wise," Liara agreed without hesitation. "For a human."

Ash laughed lightly at the impish quality in Liara's voice. It reminded her of the scientist she'd met about the _Normandy_ SR-1. They'd both been young, naive and equally scared. For the first time in weeks, Ash felt stress and fatigue ebbing away. The thoughts that had consumed her during the voyage home were banished, at least for the immediate future.

Then she saw Liara's attention waver, diverted by the kind of flashing red light that usually indicated that something was wrong. It was fairly innocuous - Liara's head turned slightly, lips parted in concern. However it was more than enough for Ash to know that her homecoming was over. Feigning an untroubled exterior, Ash gently extricated herself from the embrace and shifted her body, leaving Liara a clear path back to her terminal.

"Bancroft?" Ash asked quietly.

"A standoff," Liara explained as she returned to work without a further glance over her shoulder. "Neither Bancroft nor Asari High Command are willing to make the first move. I am hoping that it is a state of affairs that will last, at least long enough to broker another deal."

"My crew can be ready within a few hours, six at the most-"

" _Ash_."

Liara silenced her all too quickly. Even though she knew the mere suggestion had been futile, Ash couldn't suppress a slight resentment. If her presence was necessary, _she knew_ she could still be back in the field that quickly. Sometimes she wished Liara would acknowledge that.

"Can you handle things here?"

"Of course." Liara turned to look at her for a moment. "Are you going upstairs? You are about five hours too late."

A wan smile flitted across Ash's face. "It's fine, I think I'm going straight to bed. You know, it is late. You should call it a night...or morning."

Ash didn't expect a positive response - or even a response. Sighing to herself, she turned and walked out of the room - leaving her bondmate at the mercy of the all-consuming screens. For a moment Ash thought perhaps she should have tried harder to prise Liara away, but her own body was finally crying out for sleep and she was tired of fighting.

Several minutes later, Ash sank gratefully onto the side of her bed. It felt as though her entire body offered a sigh of relief at finally being able to relax. In that moment there was no need to be the captain, the soldier, or even the bondmate. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. Her thoughts echoed what she had felt on Aite.

She was getting too old for this shit.

Too many responsibilities. Too much at stake. Ash turned her head, caught a glimpse of the photo sitting beside the bed. Her life was short enough already without trying to make it shorter. Hot tears burned her eyes.

Now that she was alone, Ash didn't bother to try and restrain the tears to the point where a sharp sob escaped her lips.

"Dad?"

She jerked upwards, swiping away the tears with an angry motion of her hand. The door was slightly ajar. Her mouth opened to utter a stern rebuke. A pair of wide blue eyes regarded her nervously. Any anger Ash might have expressed, dissipated in an instant.

"Hey, monkey." She did her best to keep her voice from cracking. "What are you doing out of bed?"

An asari child wearing a worn military-issue t-shirt took a step into the room. Her skin was the same light blue as her mother's, although lacking the freckle-like colouring across the bridge of her nose. She was willowy, with both of her bare knees carrying evidence of recent scrapes. In a motion reminiscent of her father, she jerked her head over her shoulder. "Theda heard you come home. Said she couldn't sleep till you came in and said g'night. Wasn't my idea. I know we're not 'posed to be out of bed."

"Was too!" an urgent whisper came from beyond the door.

"Theda?" Ash called softly, already picturing her youngest waiting just beyond the door, eyes wide with fear and expectation. "You can come in...just this once."

A smaller child suddenly flew into the room with none of the reserve shown by her sister. Theda barrelled across the floor on short legs and didn't stop moving until she had thrown herself into Ash's arms with a delighted squeal.

Sensations overwhelmed Ash. The warmth of a body pressed against her own. The mingled smells of soap and sleep. A babble of nonsensical words tumbling out from her youngest daughter's mouth. She wondered how the hell she had ever thought she could simply retire for the evening without a glimpse of her kids.

As Theda wrapped a pair of chubby arms around her waist and burrowed close, Ash looked to the door. Her eldest remained standing there, clearly not wanting to sink to the level of childish unrestraint shown by her sibling. Stoic and proud – exactly like her namesake.

"C'mon, Alice." Ash extended an arm towards her eldest, beckoning. "You've got my full permission to be out of bed."

"Really?" Alice asked in a suspicious voice.

Ash couldn't help but smile. "Really."

From an early age, her eldest had been slow to trust. It was a result of paying too much attention to her grandfather. Ash could only pray that Aethyta's influence didn't extend to foul language and heavy drinking.

"But it's a limited offer. You need to claim your hug within five seconds, or it's back to bed for you. Five…four…three…"

Ash didn't need to count as far as two.


	6. Shit in the Sack

**2186 CE**

**The Citadel, Widow**

As far as disguises go, it's so ineffective as to render it absurd, but Shepard keeps the brim of her cap tugged low as she moves amongst the huddled masses. The cap serves little purpose, the real disguise is anonymity. This part of the Citadel has changed beyond all recognition. The once pristine plazas are now crowded with emergency refugee housing – if one can call the haphazard jumble of crates anything so grand as 'housing.' Despair hangs in the air. It's practically tangible – written on the faces of those who have lost everything in the weeks since the Reaper invasion. The stench alone is almost thick enough to walk on.

Something soft gives way beneath Shepard's boot – rotten food, shit, whatever it is she doesn't pause. Others might have balked at the misery, feeling squeamish, or possibly have felt gut-wrenching sympathy for the plight of the unfortunates. Shepard feels neither. The stench from closely packed bodies reminds her of childhood – at least until she was old enough to get the hell out. She doesn’t feel sorry for anyone. Sure, they've been dealt a rotten hand, but they still have their lives. That alone should be all they need.

Well, that and a fucking gun.

Shepard pauses, looks around. She's in the right place but there's nothing here – nothing except a mountain of empty ration boxes waiting for disposal and more filth. There's a couple of figures skulking about in the shadows. Another limp shape is huddled near her feet, she resists giving it a kick to ascertain whether it's a threat. Shepard checks the message on her omni-tool again and wonders if it's all been a ruse to get her alone. Even the galaxy's hero has more than her fair share of enemies. Cerberus - goes without saying, especially after the stunt on Mars. Any number of merc groups she's pissed off over the years. Hell, that's not even mentioning ex-lovers. She snorts self-deprecatingly at the last. There haven't been many of those within recent memory, none since her return from the dead. Getting laid used to be a priority, now it's a hell of a long way down the list.

This has been a waste of her time – almost as much as begging the Council for their support. That humiliation is still fresh in her mind. She saved their lives, now they're running scared. Shepard turns to leave, absently wondering if Purgatory have increased the prices of their drinks in response to wartime rationing.

"Shepard."

The voice comes from the cloaked figure Shepard dismissed earlier. It turns out that it isn't some drunk refugee after all. Shepard turns and asks herself how the hell she missed the tell-tale signs. The individual looks non-threatening at first glance, but Shepard's now sees what she missed. It's not a slump, but a carefully positioned crouch. While the cloak is filthy, the fabric is expensive and well made. The figure tilts its head up slightly, Shepard catches sight of a pale chin and the beginnings of a smile. Her lips part in shock.

"Miranda?"

"Would you have noticed if I remained silent?"

The Australian twang is unmistakable and Shepard feels a surprising surge of relief. A part of her had feared that Miranda was dead.

"Nope, I'm getting slow in my old age," Shepard replies. It's not the truth. On the surface she's dead tired. There's fear too. She'd like to think that's simply because Ashley is broken in Huerta Memorial, but the reality of the situation extends far beyond one individual. However, seeing Miranda Lawson narrows her perspective again. Her heartbeat speeds up of its own volition. "And you're not what I was expecting."

Miranda rises to her feet. The hood stays up, but Shepard can now see every detail of the former Cerberus Operative's face. There are changes etched both visibly and beneath the surface. The former are easy enough to spot. Shepard has long since committed that face to memory, to the fantasies that lurk at the back of her mind. Miranda's pale skin is almost translucent, making the blue of her eyes stand out in stark contrast…and the dark circles that ring them. Once flawless lips are chapped, suffering from inattention.

The other details are harder to pick up. Miranda has always been difficult to read, especially given the added complications of attraction, but Shepard knows the woman well enough to realise that she's hanging onto sanity by the barest of margins. It's in the eyes mostly. They're cold, devoid of any visible emotion except a lingering anger.

Shepard has to shake her head in disbelief. The giddiness is gone, replaced by a justifiable anger of her own. "Where the hell have you been, Lawson?"

"The real question is where haven't I been." Miranda sounds bitter. "I didn't know you were expecting a postcard, Shepard."

"Nothing so sentimental. Would it kill you to realise that there are people that care about what happens to you?"

"By people, do you mean you?"

This reunion isn't going according to plan – or, more accurately, it isn't going according to her fantasies. Shepard's jaw tightens. Now, more than ever this futile attraction is something she can't afford to dwell on. Miranda's unobtainable. She needs to forget about it and get back to the serious business of trying to save the Galaxy.

"I mean that you're an invaluable asset, Lawson. You may not have noticed, but the Reapers are here. Some of us are trying to stop them. Having you on our side would make that job a little easier."

Miranda shakes her head. "I think you overestimate my abilities, Shepard."

Shepard arches an eyebrow. "Do I?"

There's no reply from the raven-haired woman, just an uncharacteristic silence. Shepard is not the type of person to fill such silences with inane chatter, so she simply folds her arms across her chest and waits. It's only now that she notices Miranda's icy façade has slipped slightly, revealing exhaustion and a palpable sense of hopelessness. Shepard may have spent much of the past seven months locked up, but she suspects that Miranda's personal hell has been far worse.

"Miranda…you should be back on the _Normandy._ It's where you belong. You'll be able to stop running from Cerberus. I promise you that."

A slight smile ghosts across Miranda's face. Shepard thinks it might be one of gratitude and her heart flutters slightly. She curses inwardly. _Unobtainable,_ she reminds herself.

"I will take you up on that offer, but not yet," Miranda replies, oblivious to Shepard's discomfort. The smile is gone now, but determination replaces the fatigue. "And I'm not running, Shepard. I'm hunting."

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Miranda arched her back off the bed, searching for as much friction as possible in the final moments. Her need was met with an enthusiastic response. The tongue working against her clit suddenly felt broader, the strokes firmer and rhythmic. As her hips bucked forward to receive another thrust, she felt a second finger enter her cunt alongside the first. The pair of fingers penetrated deep, buried to the palm, and a sharp moan was drawn from her lips. Miranda's own trembling fingers sought out the head buried between her legs. She traced the familiar ridges before applying a gentle pressure. Not guiding, just holding. She revelled as each movement took her even closer.

"Nea…please!"

Her orgasm built, a smouldering fire at first, before culminating in an all-consuming blaze. Miranda writhed beneath the asari's touch. Too far gone to care about the brazen sounds that emanated from her lips, caring only about the pleasure that encompassed her present.

Contentment lingered even when the orgasm faded to nothing more than a satisfied, damp ache between her legs. Nea Skouros lingered there, close enough that Miranda could feel the warmth of each breath as the asari recovered from her exertion. She felt momentarily bereft when the warmth disappeared, and empty when Nea slowly withdrew her fingers. Neither sensation lasted long. Seconds Miranda felt the exquisite texture of Nea's skin against her own. She wrapped her arms around Nea's supple back, drawing the asari close enough to kiss. Miranda felt a palpable thrill when she tasted herself on Nea's lips and tongue, hungrily intensifying the kiss until that taste was only a memory.

"Satisfied, Dr Lawson?" Nea purred against Miranda's throat.

"Very." Miranda murmured her assent. Slowly she managed to orientate herself. Nea manoeuvred her weight to one side, nestling against Miranda, continuing to hold her as she rolled over. Miranda reached up to cup the asari's chin with her palm. "For now at least."

They grinned together in the darkness. Miranda more so because she still remembered a time when she would never have allowed herself to feel so vulnerable in the bedroom. To admit that she wanted someone was tantamount to weakness.

The sex had been every bit as mindless as promised. And it was good. So good that Miranda could no longer think of Nea as simply a one-night stand.

In the past Miranda had always strived to maintain control whilst fucking. It wasn't always strictly possible - in the heat of climax there was no such thing as control – but her rules ensured that she didn't make a fool of herself. Rule number one had always been to keep it impersonal – this certainly didn't include crying out a partner's name in the midst of climax.

Still, the relationship - or whatever it was - had to end eventually. It unnerved Miranda that, for once in her life, she didn't have an exit strategy. Nea was due to return to Thessia in a few days with the rest of the asari delegation. It would bring a natural end to their liaison, but she didn’t even want to think about it.

Miranda jumped slightly when her alarm dared to interrupt the silence. There was an incoherent, sleepy protest from Nea. One quirk she had learned about the asari was that she did not appreciate rising before dawn, preferring to linger in the warmth of bed for as long as possible.

Leaving Nea naked in her bed, Miranda reluctantly left the warmth to head for the shower. Enjoying sex was one thing, ignoring her responsibilities was still an entirely foreign concept. She still had a company to run and a deal to close - despite the fact that she was fucking one of her business partners. Miranda banished that thought from her mind, using the act of showering to try and restore some semblance of normality to her routine.

As the water sloshed over her skin, Miranda had to admit to herself that she was a little bit happy.

Emerging from the shower, she began to dress in semi-darkness. Instinctively Miranda knew that Nea was watching her, but she enjoyed the thought of hungry eyes roaming over her body.

"Dine with me tonight." It was not so much a request, as a statement.

Surprised, Miranda paused with her bra clutched in one hand. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. "I thought this was just about mindless fucking?"

"Does dinner imply more?" Nea asked playfully, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Perhaps."

Miranda couldn't deny that she wanted it. Dinner didn't have to mean anything other than two individuals enjoying one another's company - and she enjoyed Nea Skouros' company immensely.

"Does that scare you?"

The prospect didn't scare Nea, of that Miranda was certain. The asari hadn't made any attempt to conceal what appeared to be an honest affection.

"Not as much as it should."

"Yet you're reluctant?" There were notes of hesitation and disappointment in Nea's voice.

"Not reluctant, just busy," Miranda replied with genuine regret.

"The contract will be signed today. You deserve to take the night off...and I leave tomorrow."

Miranda bit her lip. "It is a family engagement."

Nea frowned. "I wasn't aware you had family on Nevos," the asari asked gently.

The first twinge of anger began to stir. Miranda was unused to having her statements questioned in such a fashion. While Nea was merely being inquisitive, she felt as though she was under attack.

"Why should you be?" Miranda couldn't keep the tone from her voice. She had very little experience with compromise, none whilst in a relationship. "This-" Miranda said as she pointed towards her bed "-is the extent of our liaison. What I do outside of it, is my own affair."

Regret entered her mind as soon as the words left her lips, but attempting to mitigate the situation was out of the question. With her skin still tingling from her shower, Miranda's perfect morning had quickly descended into disaster.

"I see," Nea said as she peeled the sheets away from her body and rose to her feet. "Then I suppose I have an answer to my question."

Miranda turned her back, unwilling to risk the distraction.

* * *

 

When Miranda received no response to her knock and entered to find a room swathed in darkness, she knew what to expect.

Jack was obviously having what the staff at the centre euphemistically called 'a bad day.' Miranda paused in the doorway, letting the light from the corridor flood the room as her eyes adjusted. Jack's bed was empty, as was the recliner in front of the window. A harsh, incessant whisper was all that broke the silence – too soft for Miranda to make out anything other than the angry tone – but she already knew where she would find Jack. Miranda dropped into a crouch, scanning across the room to spot a small shape in the far corner of the room.

A 'bad day' meant that Jack had regressed into her child self – hiding beneath her desk to protect herself, a vain effort to make sense of what was happening to her. Miranda felt a pang of despair as she caught a glimpse of Jack's eyes flashing in the dim light. They resembled those of a feral animal. Whereas once such days had been an anomaly, they were now happening with increased frequency.

"Jack?" Miranda called out in a soft voice.

"I won't do it," Jack's answer clearly wasn't intended for Miranda. Her mind was somewhere else, somewhere in the past. "I won't hurt them. You can't make me."

"Jack, no one's going to make you hurt anyone. You're safe here," Miranda replied patiently. She rose to her feet and carefully walked around the bed, wincing each time her heels struck the floor. Such an authoritarian rhythm had no place here. Knowing better than to approach too quickly, Miranda kept her distance. All the while Jack's eyes - piercing and wary - didn't leave her. "You know me, Jack."

"Soft talk and red lips," Jack hissed in a harsh voice. "Pretty...but no different than all the rest. Piss off, your tricks won't work here."

"It's Tuesday, Jack," Miranda said as she lowered herself to the ground. It was a motion that wasn't quite as effortless as it once was. She folded her legs beneath her and laid both palms open towards Jack in a non-threatening manner. "Unfortunately you're stuck with me for the next..." Miranda checked her chrono. She usually left Jack at 7.00pm, but Miranda caught herself before she went further. Instead she asked herself what compelled her to leave. Of course she often returned to work, but there was nothing pressing requiring her attention. Nor was there a talented asari waiting in her bed. There was no reason for her to leave. "I'm not going anywhere."

Her announcement wasn't met with any sort of enthusiasm. Or even much of a response. The pair settled into something akin to a stalemate. Stubbornly ignoring her own discomfort, Miranda remained in her awkward sitting position while Jack continued to watch her like a hawk.

Several minutes later, the scene resumed playing out as though Miranda was not even present. Jack's whispers commenced anew. Urgent, scathing whispers - mostly nonsensical and out of context, but Jack's pain was all too evident. Despite the passage of time, it was clear that it was still just as raw as it had been for child Jack decades earlier. Miranda should have felt like an intruder to Jack's private memories, but she'd heard it all before. The hardest thing was ignoring the parallels with her own past.

So similar...and yet light years apart. Miranda's own trauma was so deeply buried in her subconscious that she had difficulty remembering anything other than a searing sense of hatred. In the aftermath of killing her own father, she'd felt nothing - not even the barest sense of retribution for what he'd done to her and Oriana. Just detachment. And that's how it remained almost 25 years later.

An acquaintance could be forgiven for believing that Miranda was incapable of emotion. However as she sat on the hard floor, listening to Jack plead with invisible captors, she had difficulty reining them in. Tears pricked at her eyes. For as long as she could remember, Miranda had deliberately chosen to remain detached from the swirling eddies of human interaction. It had been almost effortless, at least until Shepard and the rest of the _Normandy_ 'family' had bludgeoned their way into her life. Still, somehow she'd maintained her distance from everyone save for Oriana and Jack. She'd always felt very little regret over this fact, but she'd also convinced herself that Jack would always be around. The one person who understood how fucked up she was - in a way that Oriana never could...or should.

The stinging pain welled into actual tears. With a disgusted snort Miranda dashed her hand across her eyes.

"Tried that," Jack suddenly muttered.

Miranda looked up, lips parted hopefully at the coherence in Jack's voice. Jack was a literal vision of death - but her red-rimmed gaze was piercing and direct.

"Tears don't do shit...except make you feel like a fucking pussy."

Jack's voice was scathing - not mocking Miranda's loss of composure, but bitter that she herself had ever given in to tears. Miranda smiled sympathetically in response, relieved that the worst of Jack's lapse had passed.

"You've never been a pussy, Jack." Miranda spoke quickly, moving past Jack's obvious embarrassment at having returned to lucidity to find herself tucked beneath the desk. She shifted slightly, wincing honestly as her knees protested. "I need to get off the floor before my knees seize up altogether."

"Help me back into bed then, old woman." Jack's smirk said that she enjoyed the admission of weakness.

Mostly skin and bone, Jack weighed next to nothing, but Miranda flared anyway. Her corona enveloped them both as she eased Jack's broken body out from beneath the desk and into her arms.

For a brief time, Jack was once again surrounded by dark energy. Miranda knew it was a cruel gift. Jack's biotics had been suppressed years earlier. To embrace them again would be fatal - glorious, but fatal. However, faced with the expression of hunger on Jack's face, Miranda wondered whether a brief, bright exit would be preferable than the slow, wasting death that stripped the biotic of her essence and left little other than a hollowed out shell.

It was Jack's question to answer, but Miranda already knew the answer. She hated her selfishness, but she wasn't prepared to let Jack go. A part of her also hoped that Jack chose to live. The younger woman was certainly stubborn enough.

With Jack restored to her bed, Miranda reluctantly let her field dissipate. These days she had little cause to use her biotics. A far cry from her days as an Operative, or a hunted fugitive - but she supposed she appreciated the fact that no one was trying to kill her. For the time being, she remained standing.

"You can fuck off if you want, Cheerleader. Must have better things to do with your evening than talk to crazies."

"Firstly, you're not crazy, Jack," Miranda replied emphatically. "And secondly there's nowhere I'd rather be, no company I'd rather be enjoying."

Jack cackled. "C'mon, you could be anywhere in the Galaxy in this moment and instead you're stuck in a dark room talking to me. Hell, if I were you there would be a million other places to be." Jack looked pensive for a few moments. "Mostly I'd be out getting laid."

"Tried that." Miranda surprised herself with her honesty, but she bit her lip. She didn't visit Jack to air her petty problems. Not that she could even label what happened with Nea a problem.

"You're not just going to leave it at that!" Apparently Jack felt differently. "Spill, Cheerleader. I know you. Some shit's gone down."

"Jack-"

"C'mon!" Jack lifted her arms as high as she was able in an encompassing gesture. "This is my whole fucking world and I have to live vicariously through you - just my damn luck that you also happen to be one of the most boring people in the galaxy. All you do is talk about me - ways I can be more comfortable, new treatments, what I ate for fucking dinner - news flash, I don't give a shit!" Jack had to pause to catch her breath following her outburst. When she resumed, her breathing was slightly laboured and her voice barely above a whisper. "In case you hadn't realised by now, I don't hate you...haven't for a long time. I guess this kinda of means I care about you."

Miranda was still standing and Jack's admission made it difficult to think of doing anything else. All she could do was offer up an inadequate smile. Jack eventually made a weak attempt at patting the bed beside her. Miranda accepted the invitation, perching awkwardly for a few moments before deciding to get comfortable alongside Jack. She closed her eyes, offering up a small sigh.

"I guess I'm not cut out for relationships."

"I remember you being pretty shit in the sack," Jack shrugged. "That might be part of your problem."

Miranda smiled. "Sleeping with you was almost enough to turn me off sex for the rest of my life."

Silence descended. Time was passing. Miranda's original intention of returning to work now seemed unimportant. By choice she did not allow simple moments to sit and think in silence. Too much silence led to unhelpful thinking. She opened her eyes and turned to look at Jack. The other woman looked dead tired, but surprisingly alert. When thinking about the passage of time, Miranda finally realised how much time she had wasted concentrating on unimportant things - work mostly. All the while missing out on these moments with people she cared about.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened or what?" Jack queried impatiently - clearly she didn't appreciate or need the silence as much as Miranda did. "And don't spare any of the details. How was the sex?"

"Jack!"

Jack's grin lit up her tired face. "Bet you wish I was still under that fucking desk huh?"


	7. The Galactic Zoo

**2183 CE**

**SSV _Normandy_**

Death is supposed to be a marine's constant companion. With every drop. Each time boots strike the soil of yet another planet. Hovering just over a hard-plated shoulder. Every hostile engagement. Any fire fight could be the last. After all, it's what keeps a marine sharp. It provides that ‘kill or be killed’ instinct.

Prior to the geth attack on Eden Prime, Ashley Williams believed that her most likely cause of death would be boredom. Not that she had any real desire to die, she just wanted to experience the possibility that it might happen. The gut-churning fear of live combat. The knowledge that she was actually carrying out the job she had been trained for. Instead her life stretched out in front of her, nothing but an endless stint of garrison duty. Her career tainted by events that had unfolded before she had even been born.

It's less than two months later and the tedium of garrison life seems like a distant memory. Ash is caught in the vortex that surrounds Shepard, being dragged towards the confrontation that will either save the Galaxy or doom it. The only certainly that Ash has, regardless of the outcome, is that she's not going to come out the other side. She already feels as though she's living on borrowed time. Her death should have come on Virmire. Instead Shepard chose to save her over Alenko. What makes it even worse is that Shepard can't even give her a straight answer as to why. Kaidan had been the better marine, the better person. Shepard should have chosen to save Kaidan.

The _Normandy_ is in transit to their final destination. The crew are supposed to be resting, preparing themselves. Ash sent her messages to her mother and sisters over an hour earlier. Since then she's been hunched over the weapons bench, intent on cleaning her already spotless Kovalyov.

"Williams, what the fuck are you doing?"

The sudden question startles Ash to the point where the rifle slips in her hands. Even though her reactions are fast enough to recover, her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Ash doesn't want to turn and look at Shepard. Things are still tense between the two of them after Virmire. Mostly Ash is confused. She used to think Shepard was an open book – a soldier like her, focused only on the mission at hand. Instead she's starting to realise that Shepard is an enigma.

"Mission prep, ma'am." Ash keeps her voice tight. "Making sure everything's ship shape for the drop."

"Except that we're not dropping for another twelve hours. Haven't you got somewhere else to be?"

Ash doesn't like where this conversation is going. "Are you telling me to hit my rack?"

"Not exactly."

Ash's focus narrows to the rifle in her hands, scrubbing as though her life depends on it. She knows Shepard isn't going to leave it at that. The woman is persistent.

A few moments later Shepard makes her move. The Commander steps forward to take the weight of the Kovalyov, deftly prising it from Ash's hands. Without the rifle as her shield, Ash is forced to look up and meet Shepard's gaze. She does so reluctantly, unsure of what she will find.

Nothing mysterious. Shepard simply looks tired and drawn, even more so than everyone else. Ash can't comprehend the task that sits on the Commander's shoulders. Despite everything – the nightmarish visions, holding together a disparate crew, defying the Council – Shepard is remarkably composed. Ash wishes she could be half the marine that Shepard is.

"Skipper, about Virmire-"

"Ash." Green eyes harden for a moment. "What's done is done. I made the choice." The rest goes unspoken. _I have to live with it. Not you._ Shepard's face softens. "You can't tell me that standing here cleaning this rifle is what you want to be doing right now. I can already see my reflection in it for fuck's sake."

Realisation doesn't need to happen. Ash knows exactly what...or whom, she is avoiding. Apparently, Shepard knows too. Her stomach twists into a knot of anticipation - part pleasure, part pain. Mostly she's embarrassed that she hasn't been able to keep her personal feelings under control.

Ash squares her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I can assure you it's not going to affect my performance-"

"It _is_ going to affect your performance if you don't do something about it," Shepard interrupts in a firm voice. "So why aren't you?"

"Is that an order?"

"No, Ash, it's not an order." Shepard's voice carries a hint of exasperation. "In this moment, I'm not your CO. I'm your friend. And I'm telling you that it's okay to be in love. Even at a time like this…especially at a time like this."

The dam breaks. The interminable confusion and anguish that Ash has been struggling to suppress now come to the fore. All the moments of stunted, awkward interaction. Brief touches, the memories of which Ash has savoured over and over. A shiver courses down her spine. The mere possibility that she might be able to act on her desires terrifies her.

When her bottom lip starts quivering, Ash has to turn away from Shepard. Moments later, she feels a firm hand on her shoulder turning her back around.

"Go to her without any expectations. Just be honest. And…" Shepard cracks a small smile. "And that's it. I'll shut up about it and leave you alone, because I've probably embarrassed you and myself in the process."

Shepard lets her hand fall. Moments later, she walks away. There's a lump stuck in Ash's throat, preventing her from even saying thank you.

Ash feels as though some other entity has taken over her body as she makes her way to the medbay. Mercifully, Chakwas isn't there and Ash is free to knock on the door to the store room without answering awkward questions first.

It isn't until the door opens that Ash realises she hasn't thought of anything remotely intelligent to say.

"Chief Williams-"

It might be Ash's imagination, but Liara's voice sounds breathy, nervous. Her legs feel like jelly as she studies Liara's face, finally unafraid to drink in every detail without reservation.

"Ashley…or Ash….please." The correction is the extent of Ash's conversation. There are half a dozen things she wants to say, but none seem to be quite right.

Thankfully Liara breaks the silence before it extends into discomfort.

"I was hoping…but I did not think that you would actually come…" The asari pauses, her vibrant gaze fixes on Ash as she struggles to express herself. A moment later her eyes dart to her feet. "I-I am sorry, Chief…Ashley, I should not make presumptions as to why you are here."

Ash brings her hand up. She's trembling as she presses a finger below Liara's chin and applies gentle upwards pressure. After all this time of tiptoeing around one another it's the most intimate contact they've shared, or at least it is until Ash dips her head and presses her lips to Liara's. The kiss is brief and tentative, but it offers up the promise of so much more to come. When they part, they're both grinning like idiots.

The grin and the purple flush to Liara's cheeks emboldens Ash. She steps forward into Liara's space, wrapping an arm around the small of her back. Liara makes no protest when Ash draws her close.

"Presume whatever you want, Liara….as long as it leads to us spending the next twelve hours together."

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**The Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

After over two decades of living on Thessia, Ash still had difficulty reconciling herself with the fact that the planet was her home. It had always felt foreign in a way that Sirona, or even Earth, never had. Part of this was because of Thessia's perfect fusion of natural and artificial beauty. It was all too perfect, in a way that human worlds never were. Ash should have felt at peace, instead she felt like an outsider.

Her boots crunched on the soft purple glass as she made her way through the estate's painstakingly landscaped gardens – purposefully ignoring the path just a few feet to her left. Often as Ash walked, she wished that someone would allow a bush or a tree to simply grow as opposed to cultivating it into unnatural symmetry.

Behind her, the house nestled into its surrounds as though it too had been grown there several millennia ago.

The garden sloped downwards towards the sea, offering a spectacular view of the Zephyr Coast. Today it did not live up to its name. The breeze was barely there, carrying only a hint of salt and the nearby sounds of children's voices. It was warm, too warm for the clothes Ash had chosen that morning, but she'd been anxious to hide the mottled bruising that covered her arms and legs.

Ash heard the familiar sounds of an argument. It was an all too common an occurrence. While only Theda possessed a fiery temper, Alice was resolute and rarely backed down when she thought she was right – which was most of the time. It was a lethal combination. Both children stood over a _petalida_ set – a traditional asari game designed to teach hand-eye coordination before the development of biotic abilities. One of their tutors was patiently trying to settle the dispute as Ash drew nearer. Two more were hovering nearby. Ash still couldn't understand why there were more tutors than children.

"Dad!"

As soon as Theda's shout went up, the argument was forgotten. Ash couldn't help but grin as both girls ran towards her, Alice's longer legs carrying her faster than her sister. She knelt to receive them. Despite bracing herself, Ash winced as Alice slammed into her for a fierce hug. It was repeated a few moments later with Theda, but Ash stubbornly ignored the pain of small bodies pressing against her bruised limbs. She swept both kids off the ground, whirling them about before another sharper stab of pain reminded her that lifting weights was currently off the agenda.

"Hey, rascals!" It wasn't difficult for Ash to inject the necessary enthusiasm into her voice.

She set Alice and Theda down and was immediately bombarded with a barrage of questions and comments from both kids. Meanwhile the three asari were looking at Ash as some sort of interloper who was rendering their services redundant.

Ash looked up at the tutors with a grin on her face. It wasn't returned. "I'll take over from here."

After a few moments the trio had still made no attempt to move away, as though wondering how one human could possibly look after two asari children.

"Seriously. Thanks," Ash said with an air of finality. _Anyone would think they aren't my kids._

They moved away without a further word. Ash didn't bother to watch them go. She turned her attention back to Alice and Theda. Her youngest was still clinging to her leg, while Alice was tugging her towards the petalida set. It was exactly the kind of dilemma she wanting to be in the midst of...as opposed to the life-threatening, catastrophic kind.

"Please play a round with us!"

"Don't wanna play," Theda protested. "Alice cheats."

"Do not!" Alice replied in an indignant voice. She stopped tugging on Ash's hand. Instead she propped her hands on her hips as she glared down at Theda. "You weren't doing it properly. I was trying to show you the right way to do it."

"You're too mean!"

"Hey." Ash hunkered down onto her knees, drawing both kids in close. Theda had a fierce glare fixed on her face. In response, Alice rolled her eyes and looked thoroughly bored with proceedings. "T, listen up, Alice is your big sister. It's her job to teach you how to do stuff. Alice, you need to show some patience. What I don't want to hear is the two of you arguing. You're sisters, not a pair of squabbling pyjaks."

Theda giggled while Alice nodded sagely. Moments later Ash wrapped an arm around each of their small shoulders, squeezing as hard as she dared, to remind herself that everything was just as real as it felt. Though the resulting pain was still very much present, the hours she'd spent on Aite seemed like a distant memory.

"So you'll play?" Alice repeated, trying to wriggle free from the embrace.

"Slow down, monkey." Ash held them both at arm's length. "Just let me look at you for a bit."

Alice grinned. "But we're exactly the same."

"I just want to check. You never know, you might have started growing ears or something."

"We don't have ears!" Theda pointed out as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. She reached up to touch one of Ash's ears. "Ears are silly."

Alice was right of course. Both of her kids were exactly the same. With asari children developing at a far slower rate than human children, any changes were so gradual as to be almost unnoticeable. Ash would occasionally look at them and wonder if she was imagining Alice's crests to be slightly longer, or Theda's freckles to be more pronounced.

"We missed you," Alice said softly, pressing her cheek against her father's. "And not just 'cos it's boring without you. I think mother is nicer when you're here."

Ash frowned. "Your Mum is always nice."

"She's not," Theda piped up, shaking her head. "She's meaner than Alice."

"It doesn't matter." Oddly, Alice wasn't riled by her Theda's comment. The two sisters shared a look, something unspoken passing between them before Theda pursed her lips shut in an obvious manner. Alice was left to continue. "She's always working anyway. You're here now and you're not going away again."

With that comment both sisters looked up at Ash wearing almost identical expressions of hope.

"Are you?" Alice prodded tentatively.

"It depends," Ash replied. As concerning as it was, she didn't want to waste precious time trying to draw further information out of the kids. She'd clearly been away too long. The serious conversations could take place between the adults. At that moment in time her only concern was enjoying the fresh air and the undivided attention of her kids. They were both looking at her expectantly. "If the two of you can play without fighting, then I might consider hanging around long enough to kick your butts."

Alice pulled free and darted away with a laugh, calling out over her shoulder as she ran, "You're even worse than Theda!"

There was no retort Ash could offer in the face of the truth. It hardly mattered as the three of them started playing. With each of Ash's terrible attempts, Alice and Theda bonded over their mutual amusement. And it was fun. There was nothing at stake other than fatherly pride, and Ash was more than prepared to give that up for the simple joy of watching her kids play.

Although Ash was rottenly terrible, she could appreciate that Alice was naturally gifted. Theda was still too small, her chubby limbs often wildly uncoordinated. However her elder sister hit the targets with her throws more often than not. Already Ash could see the resemblance to Liara in Alice's graceful movements. One day her daughter would be a force to be reckoned with. This thought was tainted by the thought that Ash had all too often - even if she stopped trying to get herself killed at every opportunity, she would not be around to see her daughters reach their full potential. It was the price she'd accepted when deciding to have children with Liara, the reason that she needed to make the most of her time with them.

"Dad's turn!" Theda handed one of the coloured balls to Ash.

Alice darted in front, already lining up another shot. "I've still got one more throw!"

Ash paused, an indulgent smile on her face while she waited. Her stomach was rumbling and she was regretting her decision to abstain from taking any painkillers, but she hadn't felt so content in a long time. Alice stood poised to throw. Ash was still smiling when her daughter's body was suddenly encased in a biotic corona. It took a few moments for Alice to realise what had happened, but everything came into focus as the biotically charged ball slammed into the target. The flare lasted only a matter of seconds, but not before Alice had started to panic.

"Dad!" Frightened tears streamed down Alice's face.

"You're okay, monkey," Ash said as she swiftly knelt in front of her daughter. She pressed her thumbs against Alice's cheeks and swiped away the tears with a gentle movement. "Take a couple of deep breaths."

Alice's lips were quivering, but she managed to do as asked - with a couple of hiccups in between.

"See, you're perfectly okay," Ash continued.

Accompanied by another hiccup, Alice nodded. As her panic subsided, a small smile tugged at her lips. As soon as that happened, Ash knew that everything was alright. At the same time, she also knew that life wouldn't quite be the same again. When it came to biotic training, she was of next to no use to her own daughter. Theda was staring at her sister, a star-struck expression on her face.

"That was amazing," Alice whispered, completely forgetting her panic attack even though the tears hadn't even dried on her face.

"It was certainly something." Ash said as she stood, extending a hand towards each of her daughters. "C'mon, my biotic goddesses, next stop is lunch...before anything else unexpected happens."

In an all honesty, Ash was pleased she had something to take her mind off the talk she knew she needed to have with Liara. She had a feeling that it wasn't going to end well.

* * *

 

**Shepard Station, Utopia System**

Rear Admiral Samantha Traynor finally gave into the yawn that had been threatening to erupt for the past five minutes, although not without discreetly turning her back first. The yawn felt damn good, although it did little to restore her flagging energy.

_If I'm in charge then why can't I give myself more than a measly twelve hours of downtime?_ Sam asked herself irritably. This was the first time that it had been apparent that she couldn't pull an all-nighter and expect to turn up at work without feeling the consequences. Still, Sam allowed herself a tiny grin, the fucking had been pretty amazing. With the twins on an overnight school excursion, she and Robin had made the most of an empty house. Sam couldn't remember the last time she'd been fucked on a kitchen table. Clearly it had been too long.

"Ma'am?"

With a residual heat lingering in her cheeks, Sam banished the pleasant but entirely unproductive thoughts to the back of her mind. She fixed an attentive expression on her face and turned to face her Yeoman.

"Major Vega is here, ma'am."

"Right, thank you, Gordano."

She picked out Vega effortlessly. The marine had never suited shore life. He stood awkwardly, his bulk shoehorned in between the crowded consoles in the command centre. Vega's expression however said that he was clearly fascinated as he tried to take everything in.

As she offered up a wave, Sam couldn't remember a time when she'd worn a similar expression. This had been her work for over two decades. There were times when she thought about little else…even sex on the kitchen table. For someone who absolutely needed to know the answers to everything, the Reapers were the Galaxy's most frustrating puzzle.

Sam remembered the end of the war as though it had been yesterday. The moment at which the Reapers suddenly stopped slaughtering everything in their path and retreated. In the early days few had been concerned with asking themselves why. There were far more pressing matters – burying the dead, and finding ways to ensure that the living didn't join them.

It wasn't until almost a year later that governments began to wake up to the fact that real stability could not be achieved with the Reapers remaining as unknown entities. The need became very real when Reapers began to venture back into populated space, bringing with them widespread panic even without any hostile actions. While Sam had always thought of herself as someone who operated very much in the background, it had been her idea to establish the Galaxy-wide tracking network. It was a fact that she needed to remind herself of often – her lack of quality family time was entirely her own fault.

"You found us, Major."

"Right now I'm kind of wishing I hadn't," Vega replied, shaking his head.

"It's a lot to take in," Sam said wryly. "I'd advise against trying to do it all at once."

Sam simply viewed the command centre as her office. She supposed that it was an impressive space. Situated near the centre of Shepard Stations's hub, the whole facility was spread over four floors. However the real heart of the operation was the impressive room in which Sam and Vega now stood. It was laid out in a similar fashion to the bridge of a capital ship, with various consoles all facing towards the dominating presence of a massive wallscreen encircling half the room. The screen was currently in its default mode, depicting a stylised galaxy map covered in a myriad of dots. Sam didn't keep as close an eye on the duty roster as she once did, but at any one time there were upwards of two hundred personnel in the room. Most were Alliance, but there were also representatives from governments across the Galaxy.

"So, you track tens of thousands of Reapers?"

Sam offered up a nod, as though it was that simple. "Yes. Just under sixteen thousand Sovereign-class entities. Around four hundred and fifty thousand Destroyers. We're not doing all of the work ourselves of course, there are much smaller hubs in each system that keep track of their local numbers, but we oversee the big picture."

"Dios." Vega let out a low whistle. "You're like Rangers at a galaxy-sized zoo."

"Except that our charges are millennia-old lifeforms who have continuously wiped out advanced civilisations cycle after cycle…until this one." There was no trace of mirth in Sam's voice. "A lion's behaviour is easy to predict based on its needs. We still have no idea what the Reapers want – if they even want anything at all." Sam walked up to an empty console and keyed it into life. She continued talking as she tapped away. "We have a system that codes the Reapers according to movement. It analyses patterns, changes in behaviour, anything out of the ordinary. For example-" Sam randomly selected a system, zooming in several layers until she could hover over several serial numbers. She scanned the information for a moment. "-this cluster of Destroyers here have all spent the last decade mining palladium on Ansuz. They travel the same flight path to Ilium, unload their cargo and back, without deviation."

Several more rapid taps. The map with its serial numbers disappeared, replaced by a patchwork of real-time quantum video feeds. Each one showed a stationary Reaper. Sam enlarged one - a Reaper perched above St James' Park in London, tiny figures moving about in the shadows beneath its legs.

"I don't need to tell you about the thousands of Reapers that have barely moved since the War," Sam continued. "They simply sit...like sentinels...benevolent or otherwise in the midst of our cities and life continues around them. Most people barely even notice them anymore."

"I still get a shiver every now and then," Vega admitted readily. "Can't help it. When you spent as much time running from them as we did on the _Normandy_...well, even now I expect them to open fire with one of their damn lasers. Es estúpido."

"It's not stupid. Over two decades later and I can't stop thinking about what they represent," Sam said quietly. "The almost limitless potential for destruction in our midst. They still terrify me."

"You work with them every day and you feel like that?" Vega asked incredulously.

Sam nodded. "Yes...so everyone else doesn't have to. The work we do here and throughout the Galaxy, it offers a sense of security. People think that because the Reapers are being tracked that they are some sort of benign servants - here only to help." As Sam continued, she lowered her voice. "And that's exactly how we want them to think. We don't want them to realise that their security blanket is illusory. All the surveillance in the Galaxy wouldn't help us if each and every one of those Reapers suddenly decided to pick up where they left off at the end of the War."

Another few taps and the screen changed again. Most of the serial numbers disappeared, leaving just a handful of red dots scattered across a map of the entire galaxy.

"Our system red flags any abnormal movement, escalating surveillance on that entity until we can confirm their intentions. Only on a handful of occasions, have Reapers actually attacked...the most recent being 2206 when-"

"The Kar'shan Uprising," Vega interrupted. "I was there. Three Reapers put down thousands of separatists in a matter of hours. If not for them, my team would've been wiped out in the chaos...along with innocent civilians caught in the crossfire. There were casualties, but nowhere near as many as there would have been had the situation escalated. How the hell did they know? Still makes my head spin thinking about it."

"In twenty four years, there hasn't been a single attack against innocents." Sam brought up another screen, this time showing just three locations - each one represented by a blinking red dot. "However, over the past five months, Reapers appear to have been involved in three incidents - a mining operation in the Ismar Frontier, a small geological outpost on Nepheron...and, just two days ago, the colony on Aite. On each occasion the Reapers didn't attack, but their presence was undoubtedly the catalyst."

"Indoctrination?"

"Not as we knew it during the war," Sam replied in a weary voice. Her downtime now seemed like an eternity ago. "But a bastardised form of it at least. There's a second ground team landing on Aite within the next twenty-four hours. They'll have more data for us, but very few answers."

"Ma'am? Have you got a minute?"

Their attention switched from the screen to a comms specialist at one of the nearby consoles. The young man looked slightly nervous as the two ex- _Normandy_ vets approached. Nevertheless, when he spoke it was in a crisp, clear voice.

"I've got a capital-class ship...Charlie-Foxtrot one-oh-nine-two Echo. I flagged it up with Lieutenant Kelsey yesterday, she said to monitor it, but it was probably just job hunting-"

"Job hunting?" Vega interrupted.

"It's what we call it when a Reaper has a change in mission objective. They move on from one task to another," Sam explained as she leant closer to the specialist's console, studying the flight path for herself. "Usually it's within the same system, but it's not unheard of for a Reaper to cross the Galaxy. What's our Charlie-Foxtrot doing now, Specialist Dax?"

"It's retracing it's steps. It went absolutely nowhere, the middle of the Aethon Cluster, then turned around. Currently it's on route back to the original location. Palaven." Dax brought up a second flight-path and overlaid it on the first. "It's behaviour is mimicking that of the Reaper involved in the Hades incident - erratic, almost confused."

"We're still not sure if that incident is related," Sam explained for Vega's benefit. "But up until five months ago I would have said that Reapers don't do anything without a purpose. Thank you for drawing it to my attention, Specialist, but I'm not sure we can do anything other than continue with what you've already been doing. Let me know the moment something changes."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

Sam moved away from the console and Vega followed. Even though nothing had happened, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"The Aethon Cluster...Apien Crest...those are heavily populated systems," Vega gave voice to Sam's fears. "You can't seriously tell me you're just going to monitor the situation?"

"I just did. It's what we've been doing for the past twenty-four years, Vega. Welcome to my private paranoia," Sam replied, a little harsher than she had intended. She sighed. "What else would you have me do? Warn the Turian hierarchy? Incite a system wide panic because one Reaper is behaving strangely? That's the real crux of our operation, whatever the hell is happening to these Reapers, no one can know. If it gets out..."

"You don't need to explain any further, Admiral," Vega said, chastened. He folded his arms across his chest. "But I can see why you need Ash...and what she can bring to the table."

"If we're to have any chance of averting a Galactic crisis, then we need her on our side," Sam hissed quietly, slapping her palm against a nearby console in frustration. She lowered her voice even further. "We need the bloody Shadow Broker."

Vega nodded. "As far as I know, Ash still counts me as a friend. I could try and talk her round? Y'know, over a beer, a little reminiscing about the time we took down a Harvester together on Tuchanka. Well, it was mostly me."

Despite her fears, Sam found the energy to offer up a small smirk. It vanished quickly. "Thanks, Major, but if Ashley Williams is going to come back into the fold, I have a feeling that it's going to be on her own terms. Or not at all."


	8. Down the Rabbit Hole

**2186 CE**

**Horizon, Iera System**

_Skewered by a fucking sword_.

Miranda has never speculated about her own death. She's always been too busy for such nonsense. Yet of all the ways in which she might die, being cut down by an obsolete metal implement shouldn’t be on the cards. Just the indignity of it is bad enough.

Now she's bleeding out from a fucking stab wound. Miranda doesn't need to be a genius to know she's in trouble. As she tries to drag herself into a sitting position, her fingers slip grotesquely through the blood that is steadily pooling outwards around her body. There's too much, far more than any normal person can stand to lose. Black spots are crowding at the edge of her vision. She struggles to remain conscious. There are a few scattered thoughts floating through her head. Asking herself how the hell that bastard Kai Leng managed to get the drop on her. Finding some way to stand up so she can die on her feet.

And she's terrified. Not for herself of course - she's practically been courting death for the past year. Her demise is long overdue. Her fear is solely for her little sister.

Miranda's gaze passes over Henry Lawson. She knows her father is enjoying watching her die - his 'mistake' finally being erased. The malice disappears from her expression as she seeks out Oriana. Her sister is understandably frightened, but there's something else there as well. A determination that Miranda recognises all too well. It rivals her own. Miranda sees Oriana's eyes dart towards the Carnifex that their father has left nearby. In response, Miranda twitches her head ever so slightly sideways, an almost imperceptible shake of her head. _No. Don't._ Regardless of what happens to her, she wants Oriana to walk out of Sanctuary alive.

But Miranda isn't the only Lawson sister with a stubborn streak. While Henry's attention is focused on Miranda, Oriana continues to inch towards the weapon.

"My dear Miranda." There's a mocking sneer on her father's face. "I suppose, in seeing you lying there, I should feel something...but the only thing I see is a colossal waste of my credits."

A laugh bubbles from Miranda's throat. She tastes blood. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I gave you everything. You gave me nothing in return. Instead you stole my daughter from me." His voice rises with each word. "Now Oriana thinks I'm some kind of monster!"

"You _are_ a monster. You…can't control…people."

It's an effort for Miranda to talk. Each word saps more of her strength, but she needs to keep him distracted. The pistol is almost within Oriana's reach. Only a few more seconds. Then it will all be over. It's the last thing Miranda wants for her sister. Someone so young and innocent should never have to have the blood of their own father on her hands – even a sadistic bastard like Henry Lawson.

There's a distinct tint of madness to his eyes as he takes another step towards her. "Oh, but I can. I've learnt so much from studying the Reapers. By the time I'm finished with Oriana, she'll be the perfect daughter."

"You…absolute…bastard."

Everything unfolds so quickly that Miranda's blurred vision can't keep up. Oriana moves for the pistol, but she's too slow. Henry sees the movement and turns to intercept. Father and daughter reach the pistol at the same time. There's a loud retort as it goes off. Oriana panics and drops the weapon. A split second later, the terrified young woman is pinned in Henry's arms.

"Forget everything Miranda has told you about me, Ori," Henry breathed into Oriana's ear, lips pressed against her skin. "You were meant to be with me. And you will."

Miranda's hatred and disgust overrides her pain. She finds purchase in the blood, drags herself up into a sitting position. What little strength there is left in her body, she's determined to use it to end Henry Lawson. Her plans are cut short by a sudden spasm of pain, followed by the urgent stomp of boots entering the room. Miranda slumps back against a firm surface, slipping into semi-consciousness.

Through her fog, Miranda is dimly aware of a familiar voice speaking, arguing with her father. She thinks she hears her name being called, but she fears she's past being able to respond. The anger is still there however, telling her that she can't afford to give up. Not yet. She hears Oriana shriek in fright and grits her teeth.

"You don't need her. Let her go and I'll let you walk."

Even though it sounds far away, the voice is painfully familiar.

"You expect me to take your word?" Henry's response is scathing.

"You know of me, Lawson, and you know my reputation. I don't make promises idly."

Miranda finally recognises the voice. Shepard has come to Horizon. Although Miranda doesn't believe for a moment that the Commander is here for her, it means that Oriana has a chance.

"You let Oriana go and I'll let you go. It's that simple. Is this worth your life?"

 _No!_ The thought sounds like a shout, but it doesn't emerge from Miranda's lips. She manages to lift her hand, to clutch at the end of a console above her. _That bastard's life is forfeit!_

"She is my life, you goddamn bitch!" Henry whines. There's a long pause. He then lets out a howl of frustration. "Gah! Fine, take her. She's been ruined by her sister anyway. We have a deal, Shepard."

As Oriana stumbles forward, safely away from their father, Miranda uses her hold to drag herself to standing. He's standing there, just a few metres away, with a smug expression on his face. In that moment, he thinks he has won. Miranda has the satisfaction of seeing him turn to look at her. The arrogance disappears the moment she flares. With the final vestiges of her strength, Miranda surges forward. The warp field slams into her father's body with more than enough force to knock him off his feet and send him flying backwards. In itself, it's not sufficient enough to kill him. However the glass that he stumbles against shatters upon impact. As Miranda collapses, she listens to the scream as Henry Lawson falls to his death.

"Miranda!"

She's ready to surrender, but Oriana's panicked shout makes it impossible to find a sense of peace. Strong hands lift her off the floor, supporting her limp body. Her eyelids flutter open. She finds tear-glazed green eyes looking down at her. _Shepard._ There are too many things she wants to say, but even in death she can't be honest with herself. Miranda wants to ask Shepard to protect Oriana, but she knows that the question isn't necessary. She wants to tell Oriana that she loves her and that she's sorry. She also wants to reach up and touch Shepard's face. Her fingers merely twitch.

"Please don't let her die!" Oriana's voice is choked with tears.

"Don't worry. Your sister's not dying on us, Oriana. Not today." Shepard's voice is emphatic but tender. "She has too much to live for."

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

The corridor stretched out before her, seemingly without end. Her feet were cold. Miranda looked down to find them bare against the chill of the floor. They made virtually no sound as she began walking. She had no destination, nothing other than a compulsion to walk.

She felt as though she had been in this place before. Elements of it were disturbingly familiar, and yet any memories that might have been there remained stubbornly out of reach. The chill carried with it a more unsettling sensation. It took Miranda a few moments to recognise it for what it was.

Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. Even as she fought to keep the unfamiliar emotion at bay, Miranda quickened her pace. She reached for the pistol she knew to be at her waist, but her fingers grasped at nothing before scraping against smooth skin. Looking down, she realised that she was utterly naked. Nausea gripped her stomach.

Her gaze jerked up and she found herself no longer in the featureless corridor. Instead she stood at the base of a cavernous room.

The room wasn't empty. From floor to ceiling identical tanks were stacked atop one another. There were row upon row of the tanks. Hundreds, possibly even thousands. In the ones nearest Miranda could make out something suspended in the centre. A form of some sort - curled into a foetal shape.

Her nausea intensified as she advanced, reaching a trembling hand towards the nearest tank. Miranda pressed her palm against the glass, beads of water ice cold against her skin. She paused to draw a deep breath, then swiped vigorously. It wasn't simply a 'form' suspended in the tank. It was a body. A human body.

Blue eyes stared from within.

Her own eyes.

With a gasp lingering on her lips, Miranda fought free of her sweat-soaked bedsheets. She sat up, hand automatically reaching out, searching. As she drew in several deep breaths in an effort to calm her racing heart, her hand brushed against the empty expanse of bed next to her. After a moment, Miranda withdrew her hand, clutching the bedsheet against her body. With the realisation that she was alone came the inevitable feeling of humiliation.

Nea had only warmed her bed for a matter of days, yet Miranda felt a disproportionate sense of loss.

It was approaching four am. Miranda had only been in bed for a few hours but she had no desire to return to sleep.

She could imagine Nea lying in the bed next to her. The asari's half-lidded eyes sparkling in the darkness. There would be a suggestive whisper before wandering hands soothed away the nightmares. The loss became palpable.

"Lights," Miranda muttered in a terse voice.

The harsh glare assaulted her tender eyes, but she didn't care. With an irritated huff, Miranda collapsed back against the pillows. She lay staring up at the ceiling for several minutes – reflecting on just how much of an idiot she was. Nea had been the best thing to happen to her for a long time, yet they'd said their farewells as business partners, nothing more.

Miranda had almost managed to convince herself that this was for the best.

Despite the hour, she was on the cusp of rising to start her day. However she paused in the act of staring at her bedside table. Without really thinking about what she was doing, Miranda reached for the top drawer. She pulled it open, digging beneath the neatly folded layers of socks and underwear. Her fingers clasped around the solid item buried at the very bottom.

As Miranda pulled it out, she didn't know what exactly had caused her to think of it. She'd tucked it away years earlier, occasionally seeing it, thinking of it, but never anything more than that. Now she nestled back into her bed, holding it close. Her fingers trembled as she peeled open the worn cover. Immediately her gaze fixed on the childish script inside. For a brief moment, Miranda ran her fingers over the writing before she quickly turned the page to the first chapter and began to read.

_Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…_

* * *

 

**The Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

For the second night in a row, Ash found herself sitting on the side of an empty bed. The conversation that she had dreaded for the past day had not eventuated for the simple reason that she had not seen Liara. Ash had tried to tell herself that she wasn't avoiding her bondmate. It was simply that she hadn't made any effort to seek Liara out despite knowing exactly where to find her. Ash sighed as she rose to her feet. In the silence, the simple sound was abnormally loud. Ash walked out of her room wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so old it actually had holes in it, her hair a loose mess around her shoulders. It was hardly a state in which to be walking around the house, but she no longer cared.

Her bare feet made no sound whatsoever on the tiles as she made her way down the hallway. Ash paused by Theda's room, peering into the semi-darkness. Theda's nightlight cast a soft green glow over the bed. The covers were thrown back and it was empty. Ash was unconcerned, continuing to the next room. She found Theda in Alice's bed, curled up against her sister. Alice had one arm thrown protectively over the small form next to her. Ash smiled, remembering similar occurrences during her own childhood. One particularly violent thunderstorm had resulted in all three of her sisters crowding into her bed.

She left the kids to their slumber, moving out of the family wing of the house. For the first time she noticed a distinct chill in the air. Goose flesh rose on her bare skin. The cold made walking difficult, reminding Ash that she was still a week or so out from being able to move freely again. As if she needed another reminder of her frailty.

By the time Ash reached her destination she couldn't tell whether it was the physical cold seeping into her bones, or something less tangible. She felt justifiably angry, but this was tempered by her practical nature. Ash had spent the past twenty-five years of her life with Liara. She'd witnessed first-hand Liara's rapid transformation, from the naïve young scientist to the ruthless information broker. Ash had been too in love to fear what Liara might become. By the time she'd realised that it was too late, there was nothing she could do other stand at Liara's side.

Ash didn't regret their relationship, but she did regret not having had the courage or the foresight to force Liara to step away from the mantle of Shadow Broker. She feared that it might be too late, that the Liara that she loved had been consumed by her work.

Up ahead, one of the commandos purposefully made her presence known. She stepped out of the shadows with an impassive expression. "Dr T'Soni has requested that she not be disturbed this evening."

 _Definitely too late_ , Ash thought, feeling angry and despondent at the same time. She glared at the commando as she shouldered her way past. "For your sake, Lenaya, let's hope that I forget you said that."

Mercifully, the words weren't translated into physical action. Ash simply continued into the darkened room beyond with an entirely justifiable sense of entitlement. The one response that she did try to suppress, was her anger. It made her oddly petulant, goading her to march towards the heavy blinds and throw them open. It was a ridiculous sentiment – the blinds probably didn't even open…and it was the middle of the night.

Ash wished she were wearing boots to give her entrance some kind of emphasis. "Does a request not to be disturbed extend to your own bondmate?"

Liara didn't even bother to look over her shoulder. "Of course not."

Most of the time the data displayed in the Shadow Broker's feeds made little sense to Ash. She simply waited to be told where she was needed. However, as she scanned the screens, it was obvious that Liara was entirely preoccupied with the stalemate on the edge of asari space – Bancroft's fleet lined up against Asari High Command. In that moment Ash hated the whole damn Broker network for making such a galactic problem into her own personal problem.

"Babe…please, you need to step away. If this whole situation blows up, you did your best."

"My best?"

"What more can you do?"

"When the lives of thousands of people are at stake, my best is not good enough," Liara replied in a curt voice. "You think I care for a few nights of lost sleep in the face of such an outcome? You should understand the ramifications of this more than most. If this conflict escalates-"

"It's not simply lost sleep, Liara!" Ash interrupted. "We're losing you!"

That was enough to finally stop Liara's fingers from moving across the interface and force her to turn around. Ash had to make an effort to keep her mouth from opening in shock. Her bondmate looked haggard – eyes ringed by dark circles, cheeks hollow, lips cracked and dry.

Liara's expression however was resolute. "I do not have time for this. No one is losing me."

"You don't have time," Ash said with a sarcastic snort. "When was the last time you spent some actual time with our kids?"

"What?" Liara looked taken aback for a moment. "That has absolutely nothing to do with what is at stake here."

"Alice flared for the first time yesterday."

Ash hadn't intended for the announcement to sound like an accusation, but it came out as one nevertheless. She watched the surprise on Liara's face with a perverse amount of satisfaction. _The Shadow Broker doesn't know everything_ , she thought.

"I trust she would have remembered her lessons," Liara replied after collecting herself together.

"All the instruction in the galaxy can't prepare a kid for something like that," Ash said, already starting to feel slightly guilty for her behaviour. It was something they should have been able to share together as parents. Much like first words or first steps. She softened her voice as she continued, "She panicked, but it was over pretty quickly. Now she's walking around as though she's a commando in training with Theda following like a shadow."

Liara did not respond to Ash's half-smile. "I will enrol a biotics tutor immediately."

That was not the response that Ash had been hoping for. "I don't know how these things work, but couldn't you consider teaching Alice yourself?"

"No, you do not know how _these things_ work," Liara replied in a cold voice. "Biotic instruction is a formative part of asari childhood. I do not have the time required to teach Alice properly-"

"Can't you make time?" Ash interrupted, her tone far gentler than Liara's response deserved. Her feet were frozen on the stone floor and her fatigue had long since caught up with her. She just wanted to go to bed. "Let's not argue about this now. Call it a night, come to bed."

An irritated sigh escaped Liara's lips. "I cannot."

That appeared to be the last word on the matter. Without any trace of regret on her face, Liara simply turned back to her screens, fingers immediately starting up a familiar and urgent dance, as though she had to make up for lost time. Ash was left standing, staring at Liara's back. A painful knot of emotion – anger and despair – had formed in the pit of her stomach.

Ash turned to leave without a word. However she'd only taken a few steps when she paused to look over her shoulder. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, _Shadow Broker_."

* * *

 

**Shepard Station, Utopia System**

The piercing, insistent buzz was definitely not a part of Sam's dream. Eventually she managed to prise her eyes open, finding a darkened room lit by the glow of the comms portal on her bedside table. Lying in the bed next to her, Robin murmured something incomprehensible in a sleepy voice before rolling over. Her wife drew the covers up over her head in an emphatic gesture.

Sam drove her weary body out of the bed, needing to make a quick, clean break from its warmth. As she walked out of the bedroom, she activated her omni-tool and transferred the call. There was no time to make an effort to fix her sleep-tousled appearance. She could only hope there was no drool on her chin. The crisp image of one of her junior officers stood out in the gloom of the hallway. Unlike Sam, the young woman was wide awake.

"I take it this is urgent, Larsson?"

"Yes, ma'am. The Charlie-Foxtrot on high alert, it's changed course again – back towards the Aethon Cluster. Its current trajectory puts it on approach to a small Turian colony. Captain Ruiz thought you should be informed."

"Yes, thank you, Larsson. I'll speak to him now."

There was a brief moment of static as the call was transferred, then another face popped up. Captain Ruiz was an earnest looking officer in his early thirties. He'd worked with Sam on the project for almost eight years and she trusted his judgement implicitly.

"I'd say good morning, Captain, but it sounds as though we have a situation on our hands?" Sam asked. She continued walking, already knowing that she would not be returning to bed. Her priority was a pot of strong coffee.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ruiz replied. He looked tired. It was probably nearing the end of his watch. "This latest course change would clearly suggest that we're headed for another incident. I know it's drastic, but I recommend alerting Turian High Command. There may be time to evacuate the colonists, or ensure that they seek shelter."

With an anxious exhale, Sam stopped and leant against the wall behind her. Part of her wished that this could have waited until a decent hour of her work cycle, but that thought disappeared quickly. After all, what was the purpose of the project if they couldn't work to prevent what had happened on Aite?

"No," Sam replied promptly. "You know how the Turians work as well as I do, Ruiz. We'd waste valuable time jumping through hoops before we could even get a response. We need immediate action if we're going to make any difference."

"What do you suggest, ma'am?"

"I'll put in a call. In the meantime, I want the _Gallipoli_ readied for imminent departure. Alert Major Vega and tell him to start assembling a team."

"Understood, ma'am."

By the time Ruiz's image winked out, Sam had made it to her kitchen. She brought up the lights, not bothering to dim their brightness. Anything that helped her towards full wakefulness. The coffee, however, had to wait until she'd made her next call. Sam caught a brief glimpse of herself in the polished reflection of one of her kitchen cabinets. Her hair was a frightful mess and a rushed attempt to smooth it down made next to no difference. Not that the individual on the receiving end would care. Sam rapped her fingers on the counter top as she waited for the call to connect.

When finally went through, a familiar face came into view. "Now there's a sight for sore eyes," Garrus Vakarian said in a warm voice.

The feed was poor, but Sam could see bright sunshine behind Garrus. At least one of them was wide awake. She bit her lip, regretting that this was the first time she had spoken to her old friend in almost six months. Still, they'd maintained a warm relationship since the end of the Reaper War.

"I take it from your expression that this isn't a social call," the grizzled Turian veteran continued.

"I'm afraid not, Garrus. As lovely as it is to speak to you, do you mind if we cut straight to the chase?"

"Shoot, Admiral. How can I be of service?"

Sam drew a breath. "How quickly can you order a colony wide evac?"


	9. Batshit Crazy

**2186 CE**

**Citadel, Widow**

Despite standing in the midst of so many familiar faces, Miranda has never felt more alone. She checks her chrono, asking herself how much time has to elapse before she can reasonably make her exit. Fifteen minutes is probably insufficient.

This would all be a great deal easier if she were surrounded by strangers or mere business associates. Then she would have a purpose - extract information from a scientist; charm a politician; or find a discreet way to ensure that a target didn't leave the building alive. Straightforward.

Instead she's stuck in Shepard's apartment with the woman herself having offered up the only rules of the evening to her guests. _Have fun_. That's easier said than done. Miranda has fought and bled alongside almost everyone at this party, yet she cannot bring herself to simply walk up to someone like Garrus Vakarian and start a conversation. Regardless, the Turian is preoccupied. He's staring at Tali with an expression so dopey that he seems to be an entirely different individual to the battle-hardened veteran she knows.

Miranda catches Grunt's eye. He gives her a broad, leering grin accompanied by something she assumes is meant to be a wink. She can't look away fast enough. Her gaze settles on Jacob. Miranda asks herself whether it would be acceptable to congratulate him on his impending fatherhood, but he's already talking to Ashley Williams. Her jaw tightens in anger. She hasn't the slightest desire to talk to that woman. It's a conversation that would not end well.

Miranda shifts slightly, leaning back against the wall behind her, making herself smaller. The stitches in her side tug slightly, reminding her yet again that she is lucky to be here at all. Shepard saved her life on Horizon. The least Miranda can do is look like she's enjoying herself.

Her gaze travels up to the mezzanine. There's no question that Shepard is enjoying herself. The Commander looks drunk, or at least Miranda assumes that to be the case with the way she's dancing. Or perhaps Shepard's not drunk at all and that's just the way she dances. At least Shepard is following her own rule.

"Is that a smile on your face, Miri?"

"It most certainly is not," Miranda replies hastily. _Was I smiling?_ She turns to look at her sister. Oriana's cheeks are rosy, flushed with life and nervous energy. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much." Oriana beams for a moment before suddenly looking grumpy as she thrusts a full glass towards Miranda. "You, however, look like you're at a funeral. Have a bloody drink."

Miranda accepts the glass of brightly coloured liquid without any intention of drinking it. Still, she's pleased when Oriana mimics her pose, nestling in close as though this is something they've done before. The whole sister thing.

"I still can't believe Commander Shepard invited me. I mean, I recognise just about everyone here from vid feeds. The team that stopped the Collectors. Garrus Vakarian. Tali'Zorah. Justicar Samara!" Oriana's eyes dart around the room, trying to take everyone in at once as she continues to talk at speed. "I didn't think Wrex would be so massive in person. And the last living Prothean…just standing in the same room as me! There's Ashley frickin' Williams. Do you think she'd talk to me?"

"Not if she finds out you're my sister," Miranda murmurs to herself.

"Holy crap…who is that? Over there. Talking to _Normandy's_ pilot and that…the shiny robot lady."

Oriana points far too blatantly for Miranda's liking. "Who? Do you mean Specialist Traynor?"

"Mhmm," Oriana replies with a broad grin. "Specialist in what? Tell me you'll introduce me?"

"Um, I don't really know her." It's the truth. Miranda can barely remember speaking a word to the young woman who seems to have captured her sister's attention.

"I love you, Miri." Oriana turns to deposit a kiss on her cheek. "But you're a colossal buzzkill. Wish me luck."

But Oriana doesn't hang around long enough for Miranda to ask what the luck is for. She's left with a bewildered frown on her face and a drink in her hands. A few minutes of watching her sister flirt expertly with Traynor solves her confusion. Miranda drains her glass, going in search of another before the sexual tension across the room morphs into something she really doesn't need to see.

Behind the bar Miranda helps herself to one of Shepard's bottles of Glenfiddich. Draining one glass straight before pouring a generous second measure over ice. She doesn't need anyone to tell her that the cocktail of painkillers she's still on won't mix well with alcohol.

"Is this one of those places where the bartenders go topless?"

Jack slides onto one of the barstools wearing a shit-eating grin and a new hairstyle. It looks as though something has crawled on top of her head and died there. For a moment Miranda thinks about giving voice to that opinion. However, the ex-convict looks as though she's finally started taking pride in her appearance. Despite the haircut and the fact that large swathes of tattooed skin are still on display, Jack's wearing something that resembles Alliance fatigues. Criticising the hairstyle would probably lead to a repeat of the time they laid waste to the engineering sub-level.

Shepard's apartment is nice. Miranda has no desire to ruin it. Instead she pours Jack a drink and slides it across the bar.

"No rise? Colour me impressed...and a little disappointed."

"Oh you managed a rise, Jack." Miranda takes a fortifying gulp of scotch. "And I'd kick your arse, but I have no desire to open up my stitches."

Jack snorts loudly. "Ha! I heard some dude made you into a Cheerleader kebab. That's gotta dent the ego."

Miranda ignores the barb, relying on the fact that Jack has a short attention span. She drains her second glass and starts preparing a third purely to keep herself busy. Drinking it would be foolish. She leans against the bar, hoping that her head will stop spinning of its own accord.

"You're looking a little pale," Jack observes, some of her usual snark missing from her voice. "Paler than usual anyway."

"I'm fine." Miranda's voice is tight.

She should leave. Oriana is old enough to take care of herself and Traynor has always seemed harmless enough. They're in the midst of a War that could eventually see the human race wiped out, she's not going to stop her sister from finding a welcome distraction. And certainly not because her own sex life is absolutely devoid of anything.

"Probably not much time for sun while you're on the run though," Jack continues. "I'd invite you to find out what life is actually like on the front lines, but I wouldn't want you to ruin your complexion."

Jack finally succeeds in earning a rise. "Fuck you, Jack. I almost died stopping my-"

Miranda stops herself. She doesn't need to prove herself, and certainly not to a psychotic little shit like Jack. It's exactly what Jack wants. Plus the timing couldn't be worse. The one person Miranda really doesn't want to have to speak to is walking towards them. Her heartbeat flutters uncontrollably and she blames it on the alcohol as opposed to outfit Shepard is wearing – thigh hugging leather trousers and a skin tight t-shirt that clings to every muscle.

"Having a good time, ladies?" Shepard seems relaxed as she punches Jack playfully on the bicep and props herself up on the bar.

"Nice pad, good booze…shit company." Jack nods towards Miranda.

"Really? With all the sexual tension in this corner of the room I'd have thought otherwise."

Miranda wonders if she's drunker than she feels, but the amused expression on Jack's face indicates that Shepard did actually make the comment. On one hand it could be sarcasm, but Shepard doesn't normally possess such a dearth of wit. As she feels her cheeks start to burn with humiliation, Miranda picks up her untouched drink and tosses it back in one swift movement.

"Shepard! Yo, Shepard!" Vega yells like some sort of oaf in an effort to get Shepard's attention. He flexes his over-muscled bicep. "I'm calling you out, Commander. Chin ups. Max reps. You and me!"

Shepard obviously isn't repulsed by the suggestion. She straightens and flexes her own biceps. They're chiselled and lean. Miranda subconsciously imagines them wrapped around her naked body. She needs to focus her attention on Jack to wipe that image from her mind.

"If you'll excuse me for a bit." Shepard grins, winking at Jack. "Time to go school the upstart youngster."

Miranda makes the further mistake of watching Shepard walk away. She decides that the leather pants should be illegal in all civilised territories. There's nothing to be done but pick up the scotch and pour yet another glass.

Her gaze is slightly foggy when she eventually looks up and finds Jack staring at her with a strange expression.

"What?"

Jack shrugs and runs her tongue over her upper lip. "I dunno. Maybe Shepard has a point. All this time we've been fighting when we could have been fucking. Wanna go a round, Cheerleader?"

An audible groan escapes Miranda's lips. The night could not possibly get any worse. She drains her glass and straightens. With the bar no longer propping her up, Miranda realises that she made a mistake to ignore her earlier warnings about mixing medication and alcohol. She is unequivocally drunk. Jack's still looking at her expectantly. Miranda doesn't know what's worse, the fact that Shepard put the idea into Jack's head or the fact that Jack is actually considering it as a viable option.

Miranda moves out from behind the bar. Being drunk isn't exactly something she is accustomed to and she is surprised to find just how difficult it is to walk.

"I say fuck off, Jack. Fuck. Off." Apparently it's also difficult to deliver a decent insult. "I'd sooner fuck…a hanar!"

With Jack's laughter still trailing after her, Miranda decides she's had more than enough partying to last a lifetime. Oriana's nowhere in sight and Miranda decides that her sister is old enough to find her own way home.

There's one last kick in the gut as she leaves. Shepard's calling after her, trying to get her to stay.

Miranda pretends she doesn't hear anything.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Even after over two decades of living on Nevos, Miranda still found moments of beauty that took her breath away. She stood, transfixed, as Nevos' bright afternoon sunshine hit the surface of the river below the path. The water danced, casting up a music of its own creation. The sun, water, and surrounding lush foliage combined to create a dappled effect – constantly moving as though alive. She supposed that it was in moments like these that she was able to feel the sense of peace that eluded her all too often. She went as far as to close her eyes and tilt her face towards the sun's warmth. A smile of pleasure tugged at her lips.

"I don't need fucking sun, or fresh air!"

Miranda opened her eyes. Jack was looking back over her shoulder. As petulant as it was, Jack's complaint barely dented the sides of Miranda's good mood. She was well accustomed to it, having put up with far worse than for decades. And these days Jack being her old grumpy self was a good thing.

"Well forgive me for being selfish but this is for my benefit, not yours. It's a glorious Saturday afternoon and I need fresh air, sunlight and the pleasure of your company."

It was the truth. Miranda usually viewed Saturday simply as an extension of the working week, but she was implementing changes in her life of late – starting with spending more time with Jack. She resumed pushing the chair. It required little effort on her part - the chair ran smoothly and Jack weighed next to nothing.

"Too damn bright," Jack muttered, even though she was wearing dark-tinted shades. "And I don't see why you have to push me like I'm a cripple."

The sullen comment contained the bitter truth that Jack's motor controls had deteriorated to the point where even the simple touch needed to guide the grav chair was beyond her. Jack's last measure of freedom, stripped away. Miranda couldn't think of a reply that wasn't patronising, so she opted for silence.

There was nothing except the water and the gentle crunch of her footsteps on the path. Random thoughts entered her head. Some were pressing – concerns about work that she tried her best to dismiss. She hadn't spoken to Oriana in over a week. The lack of contact was unheard of for them. Even when Miranda was at her busiest, she always made time to speak to her sister. Now she'd ignored one call and blown off another with a poor excuse, simply because she knew Oriana would want an update on her love life.

_Which I fucked up_ , Miranda thought, momentarily losing her good mood. She thought it best to remind herself that there had been no other outcome, not in the long-term. It would have been nice for a few months, maybe even a year, but eventually obligations would have driven her and Nea apart. Still, the lost potential of those months or years with the stunning asari made her uncharacteristically maudlin. And it was an unwelcome reminder of much older regrets. _At this rate, I'm going to take nothing but a mountain of regrets to my grave._

Mercifully the view around the next corner took both her maudlin thoughts and her breath away. She'd seen the same view many times over the years – it was just one of Nevos' many lakes – but today the sun caught the water in such a way that made it seem alive. Miranda was forced to shade her eyes with her hand as she stared out across the water. The cluster of habitats on the far side added to the effect, their glass exteriors seemed to be an extension of the lake. Miranda asked herself why the hell she'd brought an apartment in the middle of one of Nevos' few cities, when she could have had her pick of lakefront properties.

Even Jack seemed to be caught up in excitement of the moment. "Let's get our kit off and go for a swim."

Miranda's first instinct was to laugh, until she looked down at the earnest expression on Jack's face and realised that the suggestion had been serious. "There are a hundred reasons why that won't be happening."

"Again with the fucking cripple bullshit! I get it. I can't do anything except sit in a chair, lie in a bed or have my ass wiped for me." Jack folded her stick-like arms across her chest. "Just fucking shoot me already."

"Hey." Miranda moved quickly to kneel in front of Jack. "I meant there are a hundred reasons why _I'm_ not going to get naked. I'm not like you, Jack. I'm too hung up on what people think. I know you'd be in that lake without hesitation.

Jack managed a grin. "Damn straight I would. Anyway, what are you afraid of? Said you wanted more fresh air and sunlight. And your tits are probably still perfect."

As soon as heat flooded her cheeks, Miranda realised that she was actually contemplating giving into Jack's request. The afternoon was warm enough that she didn't need to worry about Jack's health. And Nevos was an asari world, no one would bat an eye over a state of undress.

"Fine. But we're going off the path."

"Prude!" Jack muttered happily

Jack's animation continued, chatting without needing a response as Miranda found a secluded spot which would offer some privacy. She had to acknowledge that giving into Jack had been the best decision she'd made in months. It also provided a welcome distraction as she stripped down.

"Ha! I was right," Jack pointed out as she watched Miranda undress.

Miranda didn’t need any explanation to know that Jack was referring to her ‘perfect tits.’ She pointedly ignored the comment, but made no attempt to hide her body.

Despite the afternoon's warmth, there was a slight chill to the water as Miranda waded in whilst carrying Jack. There was no need to flare to carry Jack the short distance, especially as the water soon took over most of the work. Jack let out a slight hiss at the cold, but it was followed with a burst of laughter as Miranda let her go save for an arm beneath her back.

Seeing the expression on Jack's face, Miranda didn't know how she could have ever thought to deny this simple pleasure. Jack no longer felt the need to fill the silence. Instead she floated on her back, staring up at the sky with a serene expression on her face. Miranda couldn't switch off to such an extent, but it hardly mattered. She was content.

"Thank you, Jack."

Jack cocked one eye open. "For what?"

"Getting me out of my comfort zone."

Jack grinned and closed her eye again. "It's nothing, Cheerleader. Been doing it for twenty-five years."

* * *

 

**Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

An indescribable feeling of relief passed over her entire body. For a ridiculous moment Liara fought to maintain her composed façade, before she reminded herself that her contact could only see her as a faceless avatar. _Thank the goddess._ The thought entered her head as she finally let the weight disappear from her shoulders. She let everything go out of sheer exhaustion. But for her grip on the edge of her console, she would have fallen to the floor.

_{Are you still there, Shadow Broker?}_

Liara brought her attention back to the present, back to the weary but earnest face of the asari on the monitor. "I am still here."

The feed also rendered her voice unrecognisable. Necessary features to protect her identify – even from trusted agents like Tasha Kurin. The asari on screen was still a young maiden, barely older than Liara herself. Two decades earlier, Kurin had been a commando disillusioned with the speed at which asari politics moved in the wake of the Reaper War. Liara had secured Kurin's loyalty and invested a considerable amount of resources in training over the years. The ex-commando was now one of her best, and most loyal, agents.

"You have done well, Agent Kurin." It was at times like these that Liara wished their contact wasn't so impersonal. "Many innocent lives would have been lost if either Fleet had decided to attack."

_{As determined as she is, Bancroft never desired an engagement. It was only a matter of finding a solution that did not compromise her position or her reputation,}_ Kurin explained modestly. _{Her people are sick. She was desperate.}_

"Suffice to say, that fact doesn't justify her actions."

Liara studied Kurin's face closely. The agent was exhausted. Kurin clearly needed to be pulled out of action. Liara bowed her head for a moment. Regardless of her personal feelings, losing her one route to Bancroft wasn't an option. With the potential for the Reaper problem to escalate, Liara couldn't afford the situation with Bancroft to escalate again.

_{What are your orders, Shadow Broker?}_

"Remain with Bancroft's fleet. Do everything in your power to ensure that the renegotiated transaction goes smoothly. Beyond that, I want Bancroft away from Council space."

Kurin laughed bitterly. _{Fucking her makes her listen to me, but it doesn't give me any sort of control over her. Francesca does what she wants, when she wants.}_ The young asari paused guiltily _. {My apologies, Broker, I didn't intend to speak so bluntly, it's just that it's been five months. I thought I'd be out within one.}_

_Goddess, I know_ , Liara thought. A quarter of a century being the Broker and this part of her job had never become any easier. "You signed up to do a job, Agent Kurin, you'll remain at your post until you're relieved. Is that understood?"

_{Absolutely.}_ Kurin's professional mask snapped back into place. _{Until our next scheduled communication.}_

The feed was abruptly gone and Liara was left staring at a blank screen. Kurin's tired face lingered in her memory before it was banished by the simple acknowledgement that the job had been done. For the timebeing at least, Bancroft was no longer a problem.

Liara's attention drifted to the window. It was a beautiful afternoon. She stepped back from the console, staring for a moment at the monitors which had held her enslaved for too many years. It took her a moment to realise that the emotion that surged through her body was loathing. The sudden urge to flare rose up in the pit of her stomach, accompanied by a vision of slamming a wave of dark energy into the foul construct.

It soon disappeared, banished by reminding herself that throughout her years as the Shadow Broker, she had avoided numerous conflicts and saved a myriad of lives across the Galaxy.

Surely her own sacrifices were a small price to pay?

Liara did not answer that question for herself, nor did she return to work. Instead she made her way out into the garden, knowing that the weather would lure her children outside to play.

The breeze ensured that the sound of laughter reached her first, before she could see her family. The excited, almost shrill, sounds her daughters made were punctuated by Ash's lower, but no less carefree, tones. Liara couldn't recall the last time that such sounds had been reserved for her. It was a painful realisation, especially as she wondered whether she had forgotten how to laugh. As Ash started counting, Alice and Theda took off at a sprint across the lawn.

Ever the marine, Liara knew that Ashley would be alerted to her approach. Ash glanced briefly over her shoulder, but did not pause in the game, continuing to count steadily as the two girls disappeared into the trees in search of a hiding place.

"Ashley."

Liara savoured the name, in a way she hadn't for a long time, drinking in the sight of her bondmate as she turned around. Ashley was dressed simply, hair loose over her shoulders. The unexpected surge of desire that accompanied the sight brought a warm flush to her cheeks. It had been far too long since Liara had felt Ash's arms wrapped around her naked body. _You're getting ahead of yourself, T'Soni._ The counting stopped.

"Hey." Although Ashley managed a tight-lipped smile, her tone was distinctly frosty. "I'm a little surprised to see you outside during daylight hours."

The warm feeling was extinguished in an instant. "I suppose I deserve that."

Ash folded her arms across her chest in a gesture that looked suspiciously like a defence mechanism. "I'm not going to let you play the martyr, Liara. I'm busy. What do you want?"

_What do you want?_ Spoken as though Liara was an unwelcome business associate. She had to fight back her disappointment as she replied simply, "It's over."

Ash's reaction was instantaneous – her eyes widened. "Bancroft? The stalemate with Asari High Command?"

Liara nodded, relieved that at least they could still share moments of triumph. She felt encouraged to walk towards her bondmate.

"How? Wait. You had Kurin on this one?" Ash shook her head in disbelief. "First that powderkeg that Wreav created on Tuchanka last year, now this. How the hell does she do it?"

"Perhaps by being infinitely more patient than you and I," Liara suggested pointedly.

Ash actually smirked in reply. "It's not my strong suit. Hence why I'm the muscle, not an undercover operative."

"You are far more than just the muscle, especially to me."

When Ash's smirk disappeared abruptly, Liara wondered if their relationship truly had reached breaking point. Any apology she could offer would be too little, too late – possibly even years too late. Then Ashley's body language changed – uncrossing her arms, she turned to fully face Liara. Defences down.

Liara's lips parted hopefully. With trembling fingers, she reached up to cup Ash's jaw. Neither said a word. Instead they stared, as though reacquainting themselves with one another. When Ash's brow furrowed slightly, Liara instinctively knew that it was a response to the dark circles beneath her eyes and the hollow cast to her cheeks. Her work had taken precedence over everything. Apologising and promising to change wouldn't be enough. She needed to be able to act.

_Why do I have to keep paying the price?_ Suddenly the path ahead was clear.

"Ash…the process won't be a simple one, but I plan to start handing over control of the Broker Network. I am sorry that it has taken me so many years to realise that it is not the most important part of my life. I have missed out on too much…and I have become someone I no longer recognise."

Ash's throat worked visibly. "You'd give up being the Shadow Broker?"

"I…yes."

It was difficult to force the word out. Even with the acceptance that being the Broker had taken over her life, she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of relinquishing power. Gripped by the fierce need to feel her bondmate's arms around her, Liara stepped forward into the space between them. She almost sobbed when Ash responded without hesitation, finding herself ensconced in a pair of loving, protective arms. The fear of giving up the Network receded for the moment. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the fabric of Ash's shirt. When she felt gentle fingertips against her crest, her entire body shivered in response.

"We've missed you," Ash whispered. She drew back, far enough to look Liara in the eyes. Her own eyes were shining with unshed tears. "And I was scared…that our daughters would be left alone when I die."

Liara urgently reached up to clasp Ash's face between her hands. "No! Never." If she were being absolutely honest with herself, she was devastated that Ash had even considered that thought. However she had only herself to blame. "You, Alice and Theda – our family means the Galaxy to me."

It was the first time that Ash had mentioned her own life span for some time. Something that had been brought up a great deal when their relationship was new, it had since been confined to the back of their minds, not to be addressed for hopefully many years. However, although her bondmate never gave voice to such fears, Liara suspected that it was often on Ash's mind. Several times she had caught Ash staring at Alice and Theda with a pained expression on her face. Unfortunately, it was their reality.

"Yuck! Are you guys kissing?" Alice's loud, indignant question startled them both. Their daughter practically stomped across the lawn towards them. "Dad, you're supposed to be looking for us!"

As outspoken as she was, Alice left a healthy amount of distance between herself and her parents. The disgust on her face was tempered by an obvious caution. Liara prised herself out of Ash's arms. However, as she walked towards her daughter, Alice took a small, almost instinctive, step backwards. For Liara, the reaction was akin to a physical blow. Her own steps faltered for a moment, but she forced herself to fix a smile on her face and continue walking.

"I am sorry to interrupt your game, Alice, but I wanted to speak to you."

The cautious expression became slightly defensive. "I haven't done anything wrong."

Liara's smile slipped. "Oh no. That is not...why would you think that?"

Alice's gaze suddenly darted back to her father, as though doubting whether she should continue to speak. "You only speak to me when I've done something wrong."

Liara knelt on the grass, bringing herself down to Alice's eye level. It was difficult not to feel a sense of anguish as she stared at her daughter. She'd missed so much. "Your father told me you flared for the first time."

Alice nodded warily. "Yes, mother."

"And that you were extremely brave," Liara continued.

Alice nodded again, although her expression relaxed slightly and she stood up a little straighter. "It was pretty scary. Only for the first time though, I won't be scared again."

"Sometimes it is good to be scared. It keeps us safe," Liara said quietly. _And I would do anything to keep you and your sister safe_.

"Dad said I was getting a new tutor, just for biotics. Do you know when I'll get to meet her?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. You are looking at her right this moment."

Alice's eyes widened. "You're going to tutor me?"

"I am." Liara sounded more confident that she felt. She didn't know how she would respond if Alice rejected the suggestion.

The tension lasted all of a moment. The wary expression disappeared from Alice's face, followed by an enthusiastic nod. Liara almost let her shoulders sag in relief at the acceptance. She tilted her head to one side with a playful smile on her face. "Unless of course you want me to find you another tutor, one who isn't your mother?"

"No way! You fought with The Shepard in the War against the Reapers – against cannibals and brutes and banshees." Alice punched the air. "My friends are going to be so jealous. They already think you're a big hero."

"They do? You never told me that."

Alice shrugged. "You didn't ask."

The moment passed quickly as Alice turned her attention to her father. "Dad! Did you hear? I'm going to be the best at biotics – probably even good enough to be a commando!"

"Yeah I heard, monkey. Let's hold off on the commando part for a while though." Ash reached out and laid her hand atop Alice's crest, although her gaze was directed towards Liara. "You're right about one thing though – learning from your Mum will definitely make you one of the best."

Alice beamed. "I need to tell Theda."

Liara's gaze followed Alice's wild dash into the garden, listening to the accompanying yelling at the top of her lungs for Theda to come out of hiding. Eventually she rose to her feet and turned back to Ashley. Her bondmate regarded her with a serious expression.

"Are you sure you can promise her this?" Ash asked carefully.

"I know what you are thinking," Liara was unperturbed by the doubt. "And I know that I cannot become the perfect mother in one day, but this is one thing I can do…if Athame has blessed me with more patience than my own mother, or even if she has not, I will be here for our daughters."

* * *

 

**Oma Ker, Aethon Cluster**

The Turian colony of Oma Ker had been hit hard during the Reaper War and, even over two decades later, the scars still showed. The landscape was pitted with blast craters that had never been filled. The colonists had simply built around them – simple utilitarian structures lacking ornamentation or any real sense of permanence. The whole place served to remind Sam that barely any time had passed. That the memories of War were still contained within recent memory. However, over time it would fade. Within a century, those amongst the shorter lived species who lived through the War would be dead. Eventually, the War would only be a memory for the very oldest of asari and krogan before becoming something else. Myths and stories.

Sam was grateful she'd had the foresight to suit up. It had been bitterly cold from the moment she stepped out of the Kodiak. Her cheeks now felt frozen and raw.

"Not exactly the prettiest spot in the Galaxy," James Vega said as he joined her. "Although the view is kind of interesting."

Sam had been purposefully avoiding looked directly at the massive hulk that dominated the landscape below her. It was next to impossible. Like a god fallen to earth, the Reaper lay on its side. In falling, it had wiped out over half of the settlement – buildings crushed beneath its bulk. Sam watched as Vega made his way further down the hill, moving cautiously but purposefully, rifle balanced in his arms.

"Dios."

His quiet exclamation carried back to Sam. "What have you got?"

When she took a few steps forward, she answered the question for herself. There were two bodies, heads pointing down the slope. Even in death, the Turians looked as though they were locked together in an embrace.

Vega knelt to examine them, having no hesitation in prodding the two apart. "Huh." He looked back to Sam. "Looks as though they gave each other fatal stab wounds. Fits the pattern of events at the other sites."

"Yes. It does."

Sam murmured the words for her own ears. She felt a painful knot in the pit of her stomach. She'd spent her post-war career convincing the Galaxy that the Reapers could be trusted, that they no longer posed a threat. That was no longer the case. It was a fact that some were regressing to a violent, unstable state. The question was how many. A dozen? Hundreds? Or was it endemic throughout their entire race? The worst case scenario was that whatever had held the Reapers in check, was failing and they were witnessing the beginning of the second Reaper War. Sam desperately hoped that wasn't the case. A second time around, she knew that the Galaxy would lose.

"I guess not everyone made it out in time," Sam commented, trying to take her mind off other thoughts.

"Some didn't want to leave." A familiar voice replied on her behalf. "The young mostly. They wouldn't believe that the Reapers were dangerous."

She turned around, responded with an automatic smile as she watched Garrus Vakarian walk towards her. The passage of time had barely had any effect on his scarred face. He'd long since traded in his old blue armour however, wearing instead an unadorned suit that had been left in its matt grey factory finish. Without even trying, he cultivated the perfect image of the grizzled war veteran - something Sam knew he worked hard to avoid.

"Hello, Garrus."

"Samantha Traynor." A genial chuckle followed. "My apologies, Admiral Traynor. Ma'am."

"Oh stow it, you son of a bitch," Sam muttered as she stepped in for a fierce hug. She remained there for a long, unapologetic moment, not caring that her cheek felt as though it was freezing to his armour. Only a sense of keeping up appearances drove her to pull away. "And what are they calling you these day, Garrus? General? The real power behind the Primarch?"

Garrus shook his head, accompanied by another quiet laugh. "You know I've never put much stock in formalities, Sam. I always get worried when people start calling me General, then I know they're expecting me to have some sort of responsibility."

"I know the feeling," Sam tried to keep the weariness from her voice. "I used to think that what we did during the War put us first in line for retirement on a tropical paradise. Now I know better."

"Ah, there's something to be said for wisdom and experience, Admiral."

Sam managed a wry smile. "I was never particularly wise. Please stop calling me Admiral. It's always sounded weird when you say it."

They lapsed into silence, content to observe Vega as he and the rest of his squad moved down the hill to establish a perimeter around the Reaper. Sam's physical unease disappeared with Garrus' presence, but the concerns hammering around in her brain intensified. Oma Ker was the largest colony that the wayward Reapers had hit to date. It was only a matter of time before one of the galactic news outlets picked up the trail.

Garrus cleared his throat. "I'm still waiting for you to tell me what the hell is going on here, Sam."

"I know," was all Sam offered by way of reply immediately. She chewed her lip anxiously, something she hadn't done for a long time. She turned to face her old friend. Despite the situation, Garrus' expression was as composed as ever. She couldn't remember a time when she'd seen him fazed by something. He was precisely the sort of person she needed at her side during a crisis. "How do you feel about a secondment?"

"To your team? I don't know. Are Reapers going to continue falling out of the sky?"

Sam almost smirked. Although it sounded ludicrous, it was very much the truth. "Quite possibly. And worse. Far worse if one of these incidents happens without warning on a heavily populated colony."

"Well, where do I sign up then?"

"Thanks, Garrus," Sam said with genuine feeling. She was buoyed by a sudden feeling of reassurance and confidence with the knowledge that the Turian veteran would be joining them. It even improved her present mood. "Between you, myself and Vega, it will almost be a reunion of sorts."

"Almost," Garrus replied quietly.

Sam suddenly regretted saying anything. It had been a poorly thought out comment – especially to Garrus. As she watched him out of the corner of her eye, his facial expression betrayed nothing and certainly no hint of his decades old loss. She searched for something to say to bring their conversation back to business.

"Do you hear from anyone else?" Garrus suddenly asked, a hint of expectation in his voice. "I still spend a week every year with Wrex and Grunt on Tuchanka - supposedly klixen hunting, but mostly just drinking too much ryncol. I thought Liara might be in touch more often, but I guess after everything that happened, she and Ashley are content to remain out of it all."

"Oh...um, I saw Ash a few weeks ago, on Aite. She and her team had been caught up in the previous incident. I asked for her help. Suffice to say, she wasn't willing to give it."

"Shame. I have a feeling...well, with this-" Garrus nodded towards the Reaper "-I have a feeling that we're going to need as many people as possible on this one. Good people. And muscle."

"You're not wrong. Who would you suggest?"

"Well, Liara and Ashley would have been my first picks, but Jack for one."

"You really have been out of the loop haven't you. Jack's not in good health."

"You've been in touch?"

Sam shook her head. "Only indirectly. Through Oriana Lawson. And not for a couple of years. Oriana and I could never do the whole friendship thing like normal people. Not after we broke up.."

It was a topic that hadn't come up for some time. Not because there were any bad memories associated with the short-lived romance, but for the simple fact that there were few people in Sam's life that remembered it. The memories were good, brilliant even. However it was the age old story of two people being at completely different points in their lives. Sam's decision to seriously pursue a lifetime career in the military had conflicted with Oriana's simple desire to settle down into family life.

"The last time we spoke, Oriana told me Jack was dying."

"Shit," Garrus murmured.

Sam bit her lip. "I don't really know her, I never did. Not beyond being terrified of her. I guess I should have-"

Anything she was about to say died abruptly on her lips as the purportedly inactive Reaper suddenly reared up. Sam's subsequent shout to Vega and his team to get back were drowned out by a hideous sound. All she could do was stare in horror as the blinding red light at its core came to life, pulsing at first, before steadily intensifying. Tendrils of energy whipped across the Reaper's carapace as it rose up onto its front legs. Despite the brilliance of the light, Sam was unable to look away. Somewhere at the back of her mind she was aware of Garrus yelling at her, but until he started dragging her away she was rooted to the spot.

The moment was unlike anything she'd experienced during the War, but it was enough to bring back the violence and gut-wrenching panic of that time in one split second. As the Reaper's energy reached a crescendo, filling the air around them with an all-encompassing buzz, Sam was certain that everything was about to end.

_Who would have thought_ , Sam was thinking with a startling clarity. _All these years later and I still end up fried._

The moment was such that it took Sam several long moments to realise that, just as abruptly as it had appeared, the light disappeared. With an earth-shaking thud that knocked Sam from her feet, the Reaper's legs buckled beneath its weight and it crashed back to the ground.

"Ground team, report in!"

Vega's shout over the comm channel brought Sam back to her senses. She was still hearing a loud buzz and seeing bright red spots as she realised Garrus was standing over her with his hand outstretched. As she accepted the hand up, Sam brushed aside the last of her haze to bring her focus back to the present. Her first thought was to order the _Gallipoli_ and the Turian destroyer accompanying it to open up with their full arsenal, pounding the thing into the dust.

That order didn't make it past her lips, not as she stood staring at the Reaper, watching as the red light at its core pulsed weakly. It twitched, but did not rise again.

A batshit crazy idea was forming in Sam's head.

"Admiral, we're all accounted for down here. We're falling back now. Just give me the order to light this thing up for an orbital strike."

Sam watched the tiny figures of Vega and his team move across the terrain below. "That's a negative, Major. Continue falling back, establish a perimeter two clicks out."

"Ma'am, that thing is still active. We need to-"

"I know it's still active, Vega," Sam interrupted. The batshit idea had well and truly taken hold, to the point where she started moving down the hill. "I want it to stay that way. At least long enough for me to ask it what the hell is going on."

"You're going to talk to it?" It was Garrus this time, as he scrambled down the hill after her.

She shrugged away from his grip on her arm, turning back to give him a hard stare. "You're on my team now so you'll follow my orders, Vakarian. Fall back. If it even starts to smell like a threat, I want you to order an orbital bombardment."

Garrus shook his head. "You won't have enough time to get clear."

"Sure I will," Sam replied, buoyed by a sudden confidence. She focused back on the Reaper and squared her shoulders before marching forward _._ "We need answers and, one way or another, I'm going to get them."


	10. Collateral Damage

**2186 CE**

**Citadel, Widow**

Everything about the situation she's in feels wrong. In fact, Miranda is beginning to believe that she's finally cracked under the strain.

She's standing at a bar. In a casino of all places. Unable to hear anything other than the garish sounds of people throwing away their time and credits. To make matters infinitely worse, her dress looks as though it belongs on the trophy wife of a minor politician. It's already attracting the wrong kind of attention. So far, the propositions she has received are representative of almost every species in the Galaxy.

"Excuse me, madam?"

Miranda looks towards the bartender to find him placing an extravagantly large, nauseatingly colourful cocktail in front of her.

"I didn't order that."

"It's from the gentleman at the end of the bar," the bartender replies, nodding towards a man who looks like a minor politician hunting for a trophy wife.

Miranda delivers her erstwhile suitor a lethal glare for even assuming that the cocktail is something she would drink. She checks her chrono again. Her actual partner for the evening is twenty minutes late. She's disappointed, but no doubt there has been some galactic emergency.

Enough is enough. She needs to leave before she starts receiving marriage proposals. Nothing good can come of this night.

Her escape is short-lived. She's barely half way to the door when Shepard finally decides to show up. Miranda forgets to be angry. The lack of punctuality is forgotten almost instantly. In fact, almost every coherent thought vanishes from her head.

Shepard hasn't merely arrived. In a matter of seconds, the woman has managed to turn the heads of half the patrons in the casino. The dress Shepard is wearing could be blamed. It's a black number that barely reaches to mid-thigh and clings to every curve. In conjunction with Shepard's body, the whole picture is breath-taking. A drunken Turian tries to grab Shepard's ass, but his arm is twisted back at a painful angle in a matter of seconds. It's at that moment that Miranda catches Shepard's eye. Shepard grins sheepishly, as though she's been caught doing something inappropriate, and releases the Turian. Despite slowly turning into a puddle from the inside out, Miranda manages something resembling a relaxed pose as Shepard walks towards her.

"Shepard."

The Commander's glance at her dress is hardly discreet. "Hey, Miranda. You actually turned up."

Miranda arches an eyebrow. "I believe a more appropriate choice of words would be 'you're still here' and an apology. Seeing as you're unfashionably late."

Shepard winces guiltily. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I was on track to beat Aria's score in the Arena and I lost track of time-" the explanation is abruptly cut short, no doubt as a result of Miranda's expression "-and...I probably should have made up a potential galactic disaster that I heroically prevented?"

"Quite."

Miranda is finding it difficult to hold onto her irritation. It has something to do with the fact that Shepard looks genuinely apologetic...and the black dress.

"I thought perhaps you wouldn't want to come...well, after my behaviour at the party. I was out of line."

Miranda wishes Shepard hadn't brought that particular incident up, but she inclines her head in acceptance. "You were just trying to keep the mood lively."

Shepard grins. "There's keeping the party lively and then there's suggesting that you and Jack-"

"You should quit while you're ahead, Shepard," Miranda interrupts quickly. "Let's get drinks before you find another way to spoil this night before it has properly begun."

In hindsight, Miranda isn't sure that drinks were her finest idea. Each one goes down far too easily. Even with her metabolism, she's feeling a comfortable buzz. It's a state in which everything seems perfectly normal - laughing so much her cheeks ache, finding the inane games they play amusing.

Or the presence of Shepard's hand - warm and firm - on the small of her back.

That last fact alone should be enough to fire warning signals, but there's a disconnect. It's as though the part of her brain that usually flags up inappropriate behaviour isn't working.

A red-light flares above them, signalling the waste of yet more credits. Miranda can't understand how people actually enjoy this. Or perhaps it's just that she doesn't like losing at anything.

"Why am I so terrible at this?"

"You're over thinking everything," Shepard points out. "You can't approach this sort of thing with any sort of tactics or strategy. It's pure gut instinct."

The hand on her back disappears. Miranda is momentarily bereft before everything slips even further towards trouble. Shepard's body is pressed up against her back, one arm wrapped around her with a hand firmly pressed against her stomach. Shepard then takes one of her hands, the dice in their combined palms. They roll together.

The dice settle. A pair of ones.

"Okay," Shepard muses softly. "That didn't turn out like I'd hoped."

Miranda turns her head slightly. She can feel Shepard's breath falling hot and fast on her cheek. "What were you hoping for, Commander?"

For some reason her voice emerges as a breathy whisper.

"I-I'm not sure."

There's a beat. Miranda can feel Shepard's body trembling against hers. In the split second before she turns her head further, the warning signals finally go off. Loudly. Insistently. However, they're drowned out by the roar when Shepard's lips close over her own. The night goes completely south. There's a sigh that she thinks might have come from her. As though this is something that she actually wanted to happen.

She breaks the kiss long enough to whisper, "We need to get out of here."

Another bad decision.

Shepard's apartment is nearby, but they can't keep their hands off one another long enough to reach it. They make it as far as a secluded alleyway, as though they're a pair of teenagers, or having an illicit affair.

Miranda feels a palpable thrill as Shepard presses her up against a wall and resumes kissing her with a daunting intensity. Moments later she feels Shepard grab a handful of her dress, starting to drag the fabric upwards. It's an expensive dress but she can't care less that Shepard is treating it like it's an inconvenient obstacle. It bunches up around her hips as Shepard drags her right leg upwards. She hooks it wantonly around Shepard's back. A low groan emerges from her throat as Shepard's thigh presses against her core.

They quickly reach the point where the kissing, although glorious, is no longer enough. Throwing propriety out altogether, Miranda takes one of Shepard's hands. Guides it exactly where she needs to be touched. Shepard takes over, dragging her fingers between Miranda's legs. The simple contact is almost too much for Miranda to handle, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout her body.

Her underwear is already soaked through. Her back arches as she drives forward into the firm touch, demanding more. For a few heart-stopping moments, Shepard's fingers are poised to pry beneath her underwear. Miranda doesn't want to beg, but she's not above that either.

Shepard's hand disappears, along with her lips, and the warmth of her body. Miranda opens her eyes to find Shepard pale and trembling in front of her. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted as she struggles for breath. The air between them is still charged with sexual energy.

"Shepard?"

The Commander smiles. It's achingly sad. She lifts a hand to Miranda's cheek and caresses it with her thumb.

"I know what this is to you." Shepard's whisper is tremulous. "And I wish, just for a moment, that it could be the same for me. I could definitely use some meaningless fucking right now...but it can never be meaningless. At least not with you."

The warmth disappears with Shepard.

So does the fog that clouded her brain. The alleyway is brought into stark relief. It's dirty and uncomfortable. Miranda tugs her dress back down over her thighs, but she doesn't move further. Nor does she say anything. Instead she simply watches the woman who means nothing to her walk away.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Oma Ker, Aethon Cluster**

Of all the stupid things she had done in her life, marching down a hill to confront a Reaper clearly took the top spot. In fact, Sam couldn't think of anything coming remotely close. All throughout the War she'd managed to be part of a heroic team without ever having to act heroically herself. Yet for some reason, those details were ignored in subsequent years. How many times had she been accorded the same status as actual heroes like Vega or Garrus? Not Shepard though. Shepard existed on a pedestal. Immortal.

_Except she wasn't,_ Sam thought, oddly morose as she continued down the hill. _She died, when she was the one who most deserved to see peace._

She'd fallen hard for the enigmatic Commander. She wouldn't be much of a lesbian if she hadn't. However, the war had made it easy to keep their relationship professional, with a side of platonic friendship. In fact, despite the odd game of chess, Shepard had always remained an enigma. Aloof from everyone around her, without actually being unapproachable.

Thinking about Shepard in those moments felt normal. Something to occupy her thoughts, other than the very strong desire to turn around and run. However, with each successive step, the wounded Reaper loomed larger in her vision. From the view above, the Reaper had seemed a harmless wreck. Down here, it made her feel like an insignificant speck. Sam had been close to Reapers on dozens of occasions. Even inside. But each and every one of those had been dead. Somehow Sam knew that this Reaper was watching her approach. The flickering red light at its core seemed to be trained directly on her. Any moment Sam expected it to flare. A blindingly bright glow, and then she'd be obliterated. The fact that it would be mercifully quick was of little consolation. Nor would it be any consolation to Robyn or the kids. If she did make it out of this in one piece, she wasn't planning on bringing it up over the dinner table.

The air crackled and hummed with a sinister energy that made her entire body break out in goose flesh. Sam held onto her fear like a shield. Hoping that it would keep her from doing anything truly stupid.

_As if this isn't stupid enough already._

With her neck craned at an unnatural angle, Sam's main concern was to somehow get higher. Most of the nearby buildings were heavily damaged, but one stack of prefabs appeared stable enough. She was ascending the steps when the terrifying magnitude of what she was doing suddenly hit her. Strolling up to talk to a Reaper. As though this was something sane people did.

Sam fretted over her lack of preparation, thinking of entirely inappropriate analogies like not studying for exams. She was usually someone who prepared everything in advance. And not simply 'just prepared,' she planned everything out. For every eventuality. Her back-ups had back-ups. Now her rush of blood to the head had resulted in no plan, no agenda. There was nothing other than a vague sense of obligation. This was her gig; therefore she had to be the one to come up with the answers.

By the time Sam reached the top step, her skin felt clammy and hot beneath her armour. She had to force herself to draw deep, shallow breaths to stop herself feeling light-headed. Everything pointed to the fact that this was a bad idea. That she should turn around and walk away.

_What then?_ Sam thought, swallowing the sudden nausea she felt when her gaze - limited and human - tried to take in the all-consuming view of the Reaper in front of her. _We would have nothing. At least this might give us some insight as to why this is happening_.

"Can you hear me, Garrus?"

_{There's some interference, but you're clear enough,}_ her old friend replied. _{We're standing by. Just give me the word and I'll send a shuttle to get you out of there.}_

"You'll do nothing of the sort, Garrus," Sam replied. She hoped she didn't sound as scared as she felt. "My earlier instructions still stand. The slightest whiff of trouble, orbital bombardment." _One Rear Admiral as collateral damage_.

_{Understood.}_ There was obvious reluctance in Garrus' voice. _{Let's hear what the bastard has to say.}_

Sam stepped out onto a balcony. Whether it would take her weight was the least of her concerns as she placed both hands on the railing. _So…hello? It would be nice to meet you under different circumstances?_

No amount of preparation would have been enough. Sam held onto an image of Robyn and the twins before consigning that and almost everything else to the back of her mind. There was only the Reaper and the potential that the Galaxy was on the edge of a precipice.

"Can you hear me?"

A heart-stopping beat. Then nothing. The red light continued to pulse at the Reaper's core. Currents of that same light arced across its battered carapace. Otherwise there was no response. A part of Sam was grateful, but she had expected-

_Samantha Traynor_

The wall of noise drove Sam to her knees, hands clamped over her ears, teeth gritted. Although her brain recognised the words contained within the sound, there was something more. Something monstrous.

_Samantha Traynor_

Apparently, the Reaper could hear her after all. And it knew her name.

With a grunt of effort, Sam staggered back to her feet. It seemed as though the activity around the Reaper's body had increased. Although whether it was destabilising further or recovering, Sam couldn't tell.

"Why did you attack this colony?" Sam demanded.

_The cycle must continue. This organic civilisation must be harvested._

The Reaper's words were eerily familiar. Exactly the same spiel they'd spouted during the Reaper War. Before the transformation that saw them miraculously become the Galaxy's workhorses.

"Your cycle of destruction ended over two decades ago! Why suddenly restart now? What has changed?"

_You are in chaos. This chaos cannot be allowed to continue._

"You've already made that point abundantly clear," Sam snapped, feeling only impatience as opposed to fear. "There is no chaos here. The only chaos is you trying to destroy the peace that we've built. We've proven that organics and machines can flourish side-by-side. I need to know why this is happening and how it can be stopped."

_The harvest must...continue. The harvest must continue. The...harvest...must...continue_

It was as though some mandate within the Reaper was stuck on repeat. This Reaper at least - and the other handful that had come before it - had resumed their core mission. However, something was wrong. This Reaper seemed, for lack of a better word, broken.

_Samantha Traynor_

"I get it, you know my name. I heard you the first time," she replied irritably.

Useless, repetitive words. Sam was beginning to suspect that there was nothing to be learned from the wounded Reaper. Even if it did know what was happening, there was a disconnect that meant that it couldn't...or wouldn't tell her. Sam lowered her gaze and offered up a weary sigh.

_The Intelligence is failing._

"What?" Sam jerked up, staring intently at the Reaper. She leaned forward in an effort to get closer. "What about this Intelligence?"

Silence. Suddenly the energy arcing across the Reaper's fallen body stopped. As though someone had simply flicked a switch and turned everything off. The red light flickered feebly for a few moments before dying altogether.

"No! Godammit!" Sam yelled in desperation. "What does that mean?"

Time passed. Agonizing minutes where Sam stared at the Reaper in diminishing anticipation. There were no signs of activity. Nothing other than a cold, black corpse. Still gripping the railing, Sam sunk down to her haunches and hung her head. She felt as though she had been on the cusp of reaching out to grab a prize, only to have it cruelly snatched away from her.

All she had was one, cryptic piece of information.

The only thing Sam knew for sure was that if or when this 'Intelligence' failed, it would mean nothing good for the Galaxy.

* * *

 

**Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

Before full consciousness returned, Ash was aware of a pleasant warmth in the bed beside her. It was a simple enough thing, but so unfamiliar. She was accustomed to the cold emptiness of her rack on the _Black Widow_ , or the equally cold and more painful emptiness caused by Liara's absence.

However, Liara had certainly not been absent the previous evening. Ash lingered in a half-doze, savouring her memories. They'd made love, fucked, slept, and made love again. All the while they had slipped in and out of a meld, with Liara laying bare her regrets, only for Ash to ease them into oblivion. Ash remembered what it was to have a lover. To be in love. And she had definite intentions of reminding herself again that morning.

With a murmur of appreciation, she scooted across and wrapped her naked body around Liara's. As she nuzzled in close, bringing herself closer to wakefulness by absently stroking Liara's stomach, a blue glow filtered through her eyelids. She ignored it for several minutes, basking in the last vestiges of sleep, before coming to the realisation that the light was annoying.

Ash cocked one eye open and predictably found Liara staring intently at a datapad. A mildly exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Seriously? It's the middle of the night."

"It's almost seven am," Liara corrected. She glanced down at Ash, a soft smile lit by the glow of the screen. "Clearly something you've done recently has worn you out."

"I'm not worn out," Ash retorted playfully, increasing the pressure of her hand on Liara's stomach as she moved it lower. "And if you put that down I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Without waiting for a response, Ash deftly rolled, manoeuvring atop Liara's body. Any trace of sleep was gone as she stared down at her beautiful bondmate. Liara was still clutching the datapad in one hand. Ash reached out to take it from her when she caught sight of the images on the screen. A cursory glance was enough for her trained eye to gather enough information, at least enough to realise that something was very wrong.

"Is that the Alliance's Reaper tracking network? In real time?" Ash's eyes widened as she stared at dozens of red dots, each one indicating a Reaper off course. "What the hell is going on?"

Liara shook her head. "There has been another incident. On Oma Ker. But beyond that I do not know. The _Gallipoli_ is in the system investigating."

"Traynor's ship?"

With a frustrated exhale, Ash returned to the warm spot she'd vacated next to Liara. Beside her, Liara brought up the latest images from Oma Ker, each one showing the Reaper wounded, but still active.

"This isn't our fight, Li," Ash said wearily, her good mood was rapidly failing. "Just because one catastrophe has been averted, doesn't mean you need to find the next one to throw yourself into."

Ash watched as Liara closed her eyes. Outwardly her bondmate was calm, save for a deep furrow between her eyes. It was an expression that Ash knew all too well – Liara was struggling as she allowed the weight of the Galaxy to once again settle onto her shoulders. However, the anger that Ash had held onto for so long was no longer present. Instead she reached up and cupped Liara's cheek, gently drawing her attention away from the screen. Liara opened her eyes.

"I know that disengaging yourself from your work is going to take time, but it needs to start somewhere. And seven o'clock in the morning is as good a time as any." Ash peeled the covers away from her body. "Especially when your very naked bondmate is in the bed next to you."

Despite what Ash hoped was a tempting invitation, Liara's reluctance was obvious. Although she relinquished the datapad, she made no move to take Ash up on her offer. Instead the furrow deepened, moments before she buried her face in her hands.

"Okay, that reaction doesn't exactly give a girl confidence," Ash said softly.

She rose into a sitting position so she could peel Liara's hands away. Although Liara surrendered to her touch without a fight, Ash found cheeks damp with tears.

A gentle touch with the pads of her fingers was enough to get Liara to turn her head. Ash studied her bondmate's face, seeking some sort of explanation, some reassurance that everything was alright. She found only regret and, uncharacteristically, fear.

"What is it?"

"I promised to give up the Broker Network…and nothing has changed my resolve." Liara let out a tremulous breath. "However, I fear that this is a fight that I…that we cannot afford to stay out of."

As much for her own benefit as Liara's, Ashley pressed their foreheads together. The intimacy brought her to a place where it was just the two of them. Anger did not belong within that small space. Despite whatever lay on the horizon, they would face it together.

"What are you asking of me?" Ash whispered, even though she already knew the answer.

"I know what the Alliance did to us, and I am not asking you to forgive them, I would ask you to work with them again."

"Li." It was a growled warning more than anything else.

Liara suddenly drew back. Ash was forced to meet her burning, almost desperate gaze. "I almost died fighting the Reapers, countless others did. Shepard gave everything. Our peace did not come easily. Which is why I will not sit back and let it be taken from us."

"No one's trying to take anything from us," Ashley protested, knowing the fervour in Liara's voice all too well. "These are anomalies. The Alliance will-"

"The Alliance has nothing!" Liara interrupted. "Why do you think Samantha Traynor asked for your help? They cannot solve this on their own. And these are not anomalies. There is a distinct pattern of escalation."

"You think it's going to get worse?"

As the words left Ash's lips, the memories returned. The last days of the Battle for Earth. The days that felt like years. Endless walls of noise and flame. Her hands covered in blood as she tried to stop Liara from bleeding out in the mud during the push for the beam. That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that they'd failed. That the War was lost.

The same feeling had returned, although this time it was because she knew that Liara was right.

"Fine. We'll help from here. Analysis, data. As long as no one expects me to go rushing back to the Alliance."

Ash didn't intend to sound so bitter. She thought it was the prospect of having to swallow two decades' worth of resentment towards the Alliance. Not to mention having to eventually face Traynor after their last conversation. The real reason however, she suspected had something to do with the ache in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought of the Alliance. For all the hate she carried for the personnel involved, the institution she still loved.

"That was never the suggestion," Liara replied. "However, you should apologise to Samantha."

An unimpressed scowl had already crept onto Ash's face. "Traynor is just as complicit-"

She made the mistake of looking towards Liara as she spoke. The words died on her lips and she buried her face against Liara's neck to prevent the inevitable groan from emerging. She busied herself creating a trail of kisses down towards Liara's collar bone

"I don't understand how you're not as angry as I am," Ash whispered.

"Because, there are more important things in life than holding onto anger."

Ash felt Liara's lips close over her own - soft and warm. Her lips opened eagerly, inviting Liara in further. In that moment, the other thoughts swirling around in her head were banished. Her anger dissipated. Her earlier good mood rekindled, as well as the pleasant prospect of finally continuing their activities from the previous evening. She surrendered completely as Liara pressed her down into the pillows. Somewhere, in the midst of her pleasant state of arousal, she was dimly aware of sounds other than contented sighs and the rustling of sheets. Sounds like the stomping of small feet and childish voices filled with excitement.

"I think-" Liara whispered between kisses, apparently nonplussed "-we are about to have company."

Ash opened her eyes. Liara stared down with an amused expression. "Um, shouldn't you find some clothes then?"

"They will knock first."

Ash rolled her eyes. "You are seriously out of practice at this whole parenting gig, T'Soni."

In an entirely undignified fashion, she dumped Liara to one side before diving to the floor in search of something to pull on.

"Mum, Dad, can we come in?"

Ash's fingers closed around a t-shirt just as she heard the door start to open. "Alice T'Soni, if you don't shut that door I'm taking away your omni-tool for a month!"

"That is a little harsh," Liara murmured. Her response to her lack of clothes was simply to drag the sheet away from Ashley.

Ash rolled out of bed, tugging on the t-shirt as she glared at her bondmate. "How are you just lying there calmly?"

"Why can't we go in?" That was Theda outside the door, clearly confused.

"You're too little to know," Alice replied patiently. Then louder, "Have you two got clothes on yet?"

"Bloody hell!" Ash snapped to herself, almost falling over whilst dragging on a pair of shorts. "You can come in, just don't be surprised if I'm in a bad mood."

The kids didn't stand on ceremony. Ash had barely issued the invitation when the door open and both Alice and Theda entered at a run. They leapt onto the bed, eagerly taking up the space that Ashley herself had been blissfully occupying a few moments earlier. She scowled down at them, although neither looked particularly worried at their poor timing. Her disgruntlement lasted mere seconds. It was all too easily eroded by the sight of Liara slipping an arm around each child, depositing a kiss on their heads. Ash framed every last detail of the image in her memory.

"If we ask nicely enough, your Father might make us her famous pancakes for breakfast," Liara suggested, her eyes darting up to meet Ashley's. They were sparkling with mirth.

Any protest Ash might have made was easily drowned out by the chorus of excitement that followed. It was all the incentive she needed. Ash didn't even feel short-changed as she made her way of the bedroom, especially not when her departure was accompanied by a shout of 'you're the best Dad in the Galaxy.' Not to mention she fully intended to cash in her goodwill later that evening, once Alice and Theda were properly asleep.

The warm feeling lingered, despite the nagging fear at the back of her mind. She knew if she closed her eyes, all she would see was the sea of red dots that covered the Galaxy Map. Each one representing a Reaper.


	11. Family Matters

**2186 CE**

**Alsace, Mainland Europe, Earth**

The rapid patter of the Tempest has become almost as familiar as breathing. The sound is a constant. Along with that godawful, spine-chilling screech the Cannibals make as they feed. Miranda holds onto the desire to silence every one of them. It's motive enough to keep her moving forward, to keep fighting.

There's a grunt of pain as the marine running beside her is suddenly stopped in his tracks. Moments later, he drops to the ground without a further sound.

Miranda instinctively stops. With gunfire kicking up the dirt at her feet, she starts dragging his body. She doesn't flinch as something pings off her shields. The small hollow she falls into is poor cover, but it's the best she can do as she rolls over to check he marine. He clutches at the ragged hole in his chest plate as she readies a little of her sparse medigel. Before she can apply it, his struggles cease. A quick scan with her omni-tool confirms that there's nothing more she can do. She flops onto her back and curses.

There's an unexpected lull in the fighting, punctuated only by sporadic exchanges of gunfire. Even the Cannibals are mercifully silent. The brief respite offers her time to catch her breath. Unfortunately, it also gives her time to realise that she's filthy. Her borrowed hardsuit had already seen better days before she threw herself into the thick of the fighting on Earth. Now it's crusted with a week's worth of mud, not to mention pitted with a week's worth of near misses. There's a stagnant puddle beside her. Miranda catches a glimpse of her face and wishes she hadn't. She doesn't recognise the grimy, haggard woman staring back at her. Miranda isn't even entirely sure where she is any longer. Somewhere in mainland Europe on the border between France and Germany. It's a last stand of sorts, desperately trying to defend a bolthole which has provided refuge for thousands of civilians since the War started. She knows that Hammer has hit the ground in London. For better or worse, this will all be over soon. Humanity will either fall or survive.

Miranda presses herself against the earth and closes her eyes, trying to take her mind someplace, anywhere, else. Her thoughts immediately drift towards the obvious. She's scared for her family and friends. Oriana's somewhere safe enough, but everyone else she cares about is in the thick of the fighting.

_Everyone? Don't delude yourself. You're thinking about one person._

The one person who is at the heart of everything, on whose shoulders rest so much. Behind closed eyes, Miranda allows herself to linger over the image of Shepard she's fixed in her mind. It's a bad idea, resulting only in flooding her body with an intense fear.

Shepard can take care of herself. Of that Miranda has no doubt. What she does doubt however is Shepard's poor sense of self-preservation. If it serves the greater good, she knows Shepard won't hesitate to throw her life away. Miranda wants the Galaxy to be saved and Shepard to live. It's an entirely selfish hope, but she spent weeks staring at Shepard's blackened corpse during the Lazarus project. This time around, there will be no miraculous resurrection.

A shape suddenly crashes down next to her. Miranda flares, ready to fight back, before she realises it's another marine.

"Lawson?" At Miranda's surprised nod, he continues, "You're wanted back at HQ. Someone's trying to get hold of you over QEC."

"What?" The word leaves Miranda's lips as she tries to make sense of the statement. "Who?"

"Dunno. I was told to fetch you, ma'am, and that's what I'm doing."

Miranda doesn't blame the guy for sounding surly. He’s risked his life to deliver her message. She doesn't ask any further questions as she follows him. Her mind is working overtime though, wondering what can possibly be so important that someone would go to the effort of tracking her down all the way out here. That anyone out here would care enough to find her. Her heart skips a beat.

_Something's happened to Oriana._

No, a dead sister is hardly important. Not one person amidst so much death.

Back at the ramshackle excuse for an HQ, Miranda takes the opportunity to grab a mug of lukewarm tea and unidentifiable lump of something that is supposed to be food. She's chewing and taking gulps of tea when a nervous comms specialist appears.

"Ms Lawson, ma'am? This way."

There's nothing to do but follow as they make their way through the makeshift command centre. Whilst pushing past exhausted, harried looking personnel, Miranda feels guilty that she's not on the front lines. The comms specialist points to a small terminal sitting off by itself. Miranda nods her thanks.

There's a grainy image already on the viewscreen. Miranda would recognise that face anywhere. In a heartbeat. She swallows the lump of half-chewed food in her throat. The mug is forgotten in her hand.

"Hello, Shepard."

Her greeting is automatic. As though everything is fine between them. As though the disastrous evening on the Citadel never happened.

It did happen. And it's the foremost thing on her mind as she stares at the Commander, remembering the way their bodies fit perfectly together. Her regret over not saying anything as Shepard made her escape. Berating herself for letting it happen in the first place.

Shepard wears a relaxed smile that does little to mask an obvious exhaustion. Her scars were barely showing on the Citadel. Now, less than a month later, they're laid open and pulsing with an unnerving intensity. It's as though Shepard is literally coming apart at the seams. Miranda can't help but feel responsible.

"You're a difficult woman to track down, Lawson." Spoken as though Miranda is merely on holiday. "But I'm glad to see you in one piece. How are you holding up?"

Pleasantries. As though they have time for those.

"I feel…useful." It's an odd thing to say, even if it is the truth. Miranda stares at Shepard's image, suppressing the desire to lift her hand to the screen. "I heard Hammer hit the ground. I had expected the War to be over by now."

It's a weak joke, but it brings a smile to Shepard's face. "We're getting ready for the last push. Hopefully by this time tomorrow you'll be sipping margaritas in peace."

"I'll skip the margaritas and just take the peace," Miranda replies. She's struck by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Whatever happens in London, there won't be a thing she can do about it. Why didn't she insist on going to London? Her gaze lowers. "I wish I was there. With you. I mean, you'll need the best to see this through and, no offence to anyone in your squad, but you need me."

"No. I'm glad you're not here."

Miranda looks up. Shepard is too hard to read.

"London is…" Shepard falters. Just for a second. But Miranda sees it. "It's not going to be easy."

_She's not expecting to walk away from this._ Miranda's hands curl into clenched fists at her side. "Shepard…promise me you won't do anything stupid. Do whatever it takes, but…" _Come out of this alive._

"You know I can't promise that, Lawson. I'm stupid to the core."

Shepard's smile is back. Miranda wishes she could smack it off the damn woman's face. Make her see some sense. There's nothing glorious about self-sacrifice.

"Shepard…" Miranda pauses. Draws in a deep breath. "Alice."

The sound of Shepard's name on her own lips suddenly brings everything into perspective. While the thoughts are clear enough, Miranda can't translate them into words. Instead she just stands there, mute.

"Hey, Miranda…this isn't the end, not by a long shot."

Shepard's gaze darts to one side, as though her attention is elsewhere momentarily. When her focus is back on the screen, she's agitated. Miranda knows that time is running out.

"I know, I just wanted to tell you-" Miranda fumbles. "What happened between us on the Citadel, I'm sorry-"

"Hey," Shepard interrupts hastily. "I've got it, you don't feel the same way about me, but it's nothing you have to be sorry for. You don't have to be sorry for a damn thing, Miranda." Shepard looks off screen again. Her eyes narrow with determination. She's speaking to someone else before she turns her attention back to Miranda. "Shit, I've gotta run. Save a margarita for me."

"Alice!"

It's Shepard who reaches up to touch the screen. One gloved hand, as though it can reach across the miles between them. Then the feed winks out and Shepard's image is gone.

Miranda's knees buckle beneath her weight as she stares at the empty screen. Shepard's name still on her lips.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Oma Ker**

Sam stumbled out of her field tent into Omar Ker's murky dawn. It felt as though she had a permanent scowl fixed onto her face due to a lack of light. She was a creature used to artificial brightness. The lighting system on Shepard was the most advanced in the Galaxy, creating the illusion of perfect, sunlit days. However, after a month of Omar Ker's cloud filled skies, Sam felt as though she was losing her mind.

Garrus was perched in his customary morning position – hunched low over a portable stove, heating up his dextro rations with more enthusiasm than the slop deserved.

"Morning." His voice was as cheery as ever. Far too cheery for how Sam felt. He nodded towards a nearby flask. "There's tea."

"You're a lifesaver, Garrus."

Sam swiped the flash and collapsed onto a slab of thermacrete they'd been using as a bench. The day had barely started and already she felt drained. A sip of hot, milky tea helped somewhat. She sat watching Garrus heat his breakfast. By the time she'd drained half the flask, she felt some of the fog lift from her brain. At least enough to feign functionality.

"You didn't sleep well?"

Clearly she couldn't fool her old friend. He settled onto the slab next to her, stirring the foul looking paste on his plate. Sam looked on in fascination as he shovelled a large scoop into his mouth.

"Is that stuff actually edible?"

"Not for you. And you're avoiding my question."

An irritated snort escaped her lips. She'd always been adept at keeping her private life separate from work. Ensuring clearly delineated boundaries between the two was her way of maintaining sanity. However, with the current crisis, Sam could no longer make the distinction.

"I had an unpleasant vid call with Robyn last night. Without going into all the boring details, she thinks I care more about my job than our kids. Or her," Sam explained between sips of tea. "The ridiculous thing is, everything I do is for our kids…and kids across the Galaxy. However, that explanation didn't exactly go down well."

"I imagine it didn't," Garrus mused. He was already scraping his plate clean. "People are so eager to forget the War They've already forgotten the sacrifices we had to make to win it. The thought that it could possibly happen again isn't something that they're even willing to consider. They can't. It's left to people like us to take on those fears."

"I guess there is something to be said for staying alone in this line of-" Sam bit her lip. Inwardly cursing her insensitivity. "I'm sorry, Garrus. I didn't mean…"

"There's nothing to apologise for, Sam."

Garrus smiled sadly as he set his plate down. There was no need for further elaboration between them, especially not as Garrus' eyes misted over slightly. Sam cast her thoughts back to the last desperate days of the War, recalling the frantic communications as though they were yesterday. She had been helpless to do anything but listen as one of her closest friends died in London's mud.

Sam sighed resolutely. "Even with the Broker's help we're not getting anywhere. I'm pulling the bulk of the team out today." _And I sure as hell won't be sorry to see the last of this place_. "You're welcome to stay, Garrus, or come back to Shepard."

"My place is here, Sam. If the situation escalates. I'll need to be on hand to maintain as much calm as possible. Us old war heroes have our uses every now and then."

It was the truth. Over the decades the stature of the _Normandy_ veterans had been magnified. Sam didn't think it was deserved, but sometimes it was necessary.

"I just wish we weren't needed at all," she murmured.

* * *

 

After three weeks living out of a field hut Sam, was impatient to enjoy a few home comforts – a proper bath, food that didn't come out of a packet, and the simple act of helping her kids with their homework.

Something was off as soon as she walked in the front door. There was no noise – no blaring music or wallscreen, no teenagers shouting at one another. Just an eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Sam dumped her duffle on the floor, hoping that the resounding thud would attract some attention. It worked. A moment later, Robin appeared from the hallway.

"Oh, hey, sweetheart-" Sam stopped short as she noticed that her wife was pulling a large suitcase behind her. "You didn't tell me you had a trip planned. Are you working on a new project?"

"No, Sam, I'm not working on a new project." Robin's voice was terse, impatient. "I haven't been able to work on a new project for months while my wife is off saving the Galaxy."

"I'm not-"

"Instead I've been stuck on Shepard, somewhere you promised we would be for a couple of years. It's been five years, Sam. We've been here five years! Have you given any consideration to moving back to Earth recently?"

"It's not exactly top of my priorities at the moment-"

"Well thank you for your honesty," Robin replied caustically. "I'm going to stay with my parents on Eden Prime. The kids are already there."

It was at that point that Sam finally realised the gravity of their conversation. The fact that she had just stepped into her home and was unprepared, clearly made little difference. Sam resisted the urge to utter a frustrated sigh. Instead she crossed the room and invited herself into Robin's space. She reacquainted herself with her wife's presence – her scent, the laughter lines at the corners of her eyes. Robin's acceptance was grudging, but it was there.

"Can we continue this conversation over dinner?" Sam asked softly. She reached out to stroke her wife's cheek. "Just give me a moment to freshen up, then you'll have my undivided attention. I promise"

Robin offered up a long-suffering sigh. "You need to stop relying on your charms, Samantha. One of these days, you'll find it doesn't work anymore."

Sam tried not to linger in the shower. She just needed to scrub Omar Ker's dirt from her skin. And to give herself time to think. The whole situation was her own fault for not being up front in the first place. If she'd just explained the gravity of the situation from the start, then surely Robin would have accepted her absence and stopped reminding her of the promise to move back to Earth. Except that course of action would have gone against protocol.

_Keep work and personal life separate, Sam, it's worked for the past two decades._ Sam called bullshit. The lines had blurred from the beginning. Ever since she'd stood in front of Oriana Lawson and listened to the young woman's ultimatum. The military or me. Sam had wanted both, but it had always been an impossible dream. One or the other. She'd chosen her career.

Sam closed her eyes and the flow of the water took her back to that moment. Not for the first time she wondered if she made the wrong choice.

Freshly scrubbed, yet still feeling utterly wretched, Sam made her way into the kitchen. She found Robin preparing something over the stove and her heart leapt.

"Hey, I thought I was cooking?"

Robin looked over her shoulder. "I want to actually eat sometime in the next two hours."

A witty retort died on Sam's lips as she slipped into a seat so she could watch Robin do all the hard work while she mulled over apologies in her head.

As she sat, with her chin propped up in her hands, Sam realised that no matter how hard she tried she would come up empty. The work she had been doing for the past two decades, the work she was doing now, there was no escaping it. She was inextricably tied to it. There were no plans for succession because she had never seriously considered leaving.

Oblivious to the thoughts in her wife's head, Robin continued to go through the motions of cooking. Sam wondered whether Robin was eager to find something to keep herself occupied. Something to keep her mind off what was coming.

_I can't walk away from this._

Sam's omni-tool pinged. Earlier, she'd set it to filter out most calls, allowing only the most urgent through. Her kids. Or Garrus. Beneath Robin's withering stare, Sam answered.

"Garrus, hey, whatever it is, it's going to have to wait-"

_{A Reaper isn't going to wait for you, Traynor,}_ Garrus' reply was to the point. Expectant.

"What? There's been another incident?"

_{There_ is _another incident,}_ Garrus said pointedly. _{We've got reports coming in from Lusia, a heavily populated asari colony in the Athena Nebula. A reaper that has been there for over a decade has suddenly started acting strangely. Tearing down buildings. No casualties to date, but the authorities are struggling to keep the situation contained. Sam, we might have to accept the fact that we can't control the spread of information.}_

Sam closed her eyes for a moment. If only to be sure that what she felt was a singular, overwhelming purpose. A purpose that did not allow room for regret.

"Robin…"

She opened her eyes to find her wife staring at her almost calmly.

"Go save the Galaxy." There was little emotion in Robin's voice. Only a vague disappointment.

"I kind of am…I mean, Robin, the potential implications for this are-" Sam stopped. She couldn't explain, regardless of how much she wanted to.

"Whatever it is," Robin continued where Sam could not. "It's clearly it's more important than saving our marriage."

_If only I could tell you how true that is._

_{Traynor? If this is a bad time?}_

She'd forgotten about the open comm line to Garrus. "No, it's fine. The Gallipoli crew are used to quick turnarounds. We'll be departing within the hour. I think we should pay a visit to Thessia en route. There are a couple of extra crewmembers I'd like to bring on board."

* * *

 

**Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

Early in her military career, slumming it as a boot private on some godforsaken backwater, Ash had viewed the Marine Corps as her ticket to explore the Galaxy. Even her posting to Eden Prime had been met with enthusiasm. Then four years of utter tedium had followed. She'd risen up the ranks to Gunnery Sergeant, but each and every one of her requests for an off-world posting had been knocked back, deferred indefinitely, or rejected outright. Then Shepard had come charging into her life. Nothing had been tedious since.

Since then, there were few places she hadn't been – with the Alliance or as an agent for the Shadow Broker. Her memories were a kaleidoscope of landscapes – some barren and depressing, others teeming with life and colour. From frigid icy wastes, to worlds so hot that a person would literally cook if not for the protection of a hardsuit.

Of all the places she'd been, Thessia - the Zephyr Coast in particular - had come to be the most important. It was where her family lived of course, but it was more than that. The beauty of the coast never failed to take her breath away. If she had to live here for the rest of her life, she wouldn't care.

Ash sat on a stone bench in the shade of an eris tree. Theda was perched contentedly in her lap, so silent that Ash thought she might have fallen asleep. Nearby, Liara was taking Alice through a set of simple exercises as part of her training. A smile creased Ash's face at the serious concentration on the face of her eldest as she paid attention to her mother's instructions. For all Liara's prior misgivings, she had proven herself to be a patient and gifted teacher.

"Alice wants to be a commando," Theda murmured, almost absently.

_We'll see how long that lasts,_ Ash thought, knowing full well that children were fickle creatures. "What about you, kiddo?"

"I don't want biotics."

Ash looked down to find Theda staring up her with a perfectly serious expression on her small face. She smiled indulgently. "I wouldn't worry about it. You've still got a decade or so to wait."

"I don't want them," her daughter repeated stubbornly. "I want to be like you."

"Oh." The utterance slipped out as Ash struggled fumbled for an adequate reply. She stared down at Theda. Her youngest daughter wore an expression of obstinate determination. "You're asari, sweetheart. Biotics…come naturally."

Theda reached up to tangle her fingers in Ash's hair. It was something she'd always done, even as a baby. Ash had always viewed it as a childhood fascination. Today she wondered whether the habit hinted at something more. The thought that it might mask her youngest daughter's unhappiness or confusion left Ash fighting for the right words. She stared down at Liara and Alice for a moment, watching as mother and daughter formed matching biotic coronas.

When she turned her attention back to Theda, Ash managed a smile. She reached out to cup Theda's face with her hand.

"The only person you need to be like, is Theda. Whatever you choose to be, whatever you choose to do, I'll be proud of you," Ash said softly.

She watched Theda's earnest expression and resulting nod, and wondered how much her daughter understood of what was being said to her. Ash's only hope was that Theda could hold onto that innocence for as long as possible.

Any further conversation was interrupted when Ash saw one of Liara's commandos approaching at a brisk pace. Keeping a firm hold on Theda, Ash rose to her feet as she watched the commando interrupt the training session. The exchange was brief, but whatever was said left Liara with a clear sense of purpose on her face. Their gazes met across the short distance. While Ash couldn't read Liara's thoughts, over two decades together made her pretty decent at interpreting body language. And she could tell that Liara was anxious.

Ash started towards Liara and Alice, fixing a smile on her face for the sake of her children. "Hey monkey, that was some pretty serious hard work."

"Dad! Did you see? I made a singularity." Alice was proudly wearing a sheen of sweat on her face.

"Sure did." Ash set Theda down. "Bet you're hungry after all that. Why don't you take your sister and find something to eat?"

"She hasn't even done anything-" Alice started, cutting herself off following a stern expression from her father. "Fine, come on-" she said as she grabbed Theda's hand and began dragging her towards the house "-did you see that singularity. A bit more practice and I'll be able to lift you up…"

Ash opened her mouth to rebuke her eldest, but Theda clearly wasn't perturbed by that prospect as she laughed in response. The rebuke went unspoken as Liara gently took her hand. They followed their children at a more sedate pace, putting some distance between them and any chance of being overheard. Ash held onto the peace and quiet for as long as she could. Somehow she knew that when Liara spoke, this idyllic moment would be lost. She fixed the memory of Alice and Theda running across the grass in her head, their childish laughter floating on the wind.

"I know you wanted to keep your distance, but Samantha Traynor has personally requested our presence," Liara eventually offered.

"A personal request from Admiral Traynor? I'm honoured," Ash replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone. "I don't suppose we can tell her where to shove that?"

Liara squeezed Ash's hand. "The _Gallipoli_ is already en route. They'll be arriving within the next six hours."

"I guess that settles it then."

Although resentful of the manner in which they had been summoned, Ash couldn't deny the anticipation she felt at the prospect of being back in action. It wasn't that she didn't relish the peace and quiet with her family, she just couldn't fully suppress the soldier in her. That inherent desire for the thrill of combat. The knowledge that what she was doing would potentially save lives.

Ash was mentally packing her bags as she and Liara entered the house. It was a tactic that kept her thoughts away from having to say goodbye to her children.

"I wonder who else has been dragged into this circus?" Ash mused as they walked. "Traynor mentioned something about Garrus…and Vega. I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm kind of looking forward to seeing those scoundrels. It's been too long."

Thoughts of another individual crossed Ash's mind. Even though this person was very much a part of the _Normandy_ family, Ash had no desire to see her.

"I recognise that look," Liara said as she regarded Ash with an indulgent expression. "And I do not think that she will be there."

"Are you sure? Big deal like this. What's to say the Alliance hasn't already asked for her help?" Ash asked, unable to keep a slight edge from her voice. "Because if I turn up and she's there, no potential repercussions will stop me from pummelling that smug bitch into a bloody pulp."

"Since that worked out so well last time," Liara murmured, trying to diffuse the tension by placing her hand on the small of Ash's back.

"She sold us out!" Ash forgot to use her inside voice.

"You assume it was her-"

"I don't need proof!" Ash stopped walking and turned to face Liara. "I know she did it to save her own skin."

"Ashley. My love." Liara pressed both hands to Ashley's cheeks. "You will not have to see Miranda Lawson. Just as you will not have to suffer the indignity of being trussed upside down in a biotic field again after trying to attack her."

Ash's cheeks burned in humiliation. That had not been her finest moment. Even after the time that had passed, she could still clearly remember hanging upside down in a biotic forcefield, hurling insults at the ex-Cerberus Operative. Miranda hadn't tried to defend herself, simply staring blankly before releasing the field to unceremoniously dump Ash on the ground. Mercifully, that had been the last time she had seen Miranda.

"Well, if she is there, promise me you'll keep me away from her?"

"It will be my priority, trust me." Liara nodded. "That pleasant matter aside, we have much to do in six hours."

"We'll need someone to watch the kids."

"Aethyta is more than capable-"

"Your father? Li, surely you haven't forgotten what happened the last time we left the kids alone with your Dad?" Ash protested. "We arrived home to find her teaching Alice how to field strip a shotgun! She should not be left to supervise children!"

Liara's expression twitched, ever so slightly, but enough to make Ash realise that she'd just made a huge mistake. It was then that she heard heavy footsteps approaching. The footsteps of a pissed off father-in-law.

"She's standing behind me. Isn't she?" Ash asked quietly.

"Yes," Liara replied with a tight-lipped smile.

"Don't worry about saying anything, Williams," Aethyta announced as she approached. "There's nothing you can do to dig your way out of that hole. If you think I'm not capable of watching my grandkids, then by all means, find someone else. However, I'm not going anywhere and you can bet your ass I'll be teaching that kid how to defend herself."

* * *

 

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Miranda turned away from the screen, searching for something unidentifiable beyond the windows of her office. Some solution. Some way of prematurely ending a day in which everything was conspiring against her. It had been one issue after the other. Just minor things at first – back to back meetings accomplishing little, problematic staff, and project delays.

Fifteen minutes ago she had been sitting at her desk, utterly drained of energy, when a call from her sister came through. Her hope that her day would end on a more pleasant note, had been dashed immediately when she'd seen the furious expression on Oriana's face.

"At least give me the courtesy of looking at me, Miranda." Even though light years separated them, the vehemence in Oriana's voice made it feel as though she was in the room. "I cannot believe that you told Aaron to enlist! Despite knowing full well how I feel about the military, you went behind my back to give him your blessing. He's my son and he's just signed his life away."

Miranda hated hearing pain in her sister's voice. Despite its inauspicious beginnings, their relationship had always been solid. Made more so by the fact that Miranda had always needed Oriana just as much as just as much as Oriana needed her.

"Listen to me for a moment." Miranda turned her attention back to the screen, frustrated at the distance between them. "He simply wanted my advice on how to break it to you. That's it. I will admit that I make no attempt to dissuade him from enlisting, but it's not my place. Aaron is eighteen. You were saying yourself that he's not a kid anymore. If this is his decision, all you can do is support him."

"All I can do?" Oriana's voice was laden with angry disbelief. "I can't believe you're peddling that bullshit. Are you forgetting that I spent two decades married to a man who never recovered from the War?"

"No, of course not-" Miranda tried to reply.

"Greg woke up almost every night in pieces!" Oriana interrupted, shaking her head as she struggled to deal with the memories. "He managed to hide it from Aaron. Now I wish he hadn't."

"Ori, please, I know exactly what you went through. I lived through it with you. But this isn't the same. We all did what we had to do to win the War, but it's over. The Alliance is a…it's a good career option-"

"Jesus Christ, Miranda. You're the last person I would expect to try and sell the Alliance to me. They tried to lock you up at the end of the War!" Oriana shook her head. "No, I need you to fix this. You're going to tell Aaron that this isn't the career for him. You'll offer him the position at Lawson Dynamics you promised."

"I'll do nothing of the sort." Miranda replied bluntly. She hated that this conversation was taking place over a vid link. She wanted to be able to shake some sense into her sister. Or at least to hold her. "Just listen to yourself for a moment."

When Oriana had to dash away her tears with the back of her hand, Miranda knew she'd gone too far. She opened her mouth to apologise, when the vid feed abruptly terminated. The resulting blank screen mocked her and she felt sick to her stomach.

"Fuck!" Miranda hissed, slamming her fist down on the desk in frustration.

Aaron was a Lawson to his core. His mind was set. Neither the pleas of his mother, nor an offer from his aunt, would be able to change it.

With the conversation stuck on repeat in her head, there was no point in trying to resume work. Miranda gathered a few essentials and stuffed them into her bag.

The rest of the building was mercifully empty, to the point where she didn't encounter another soul until she reached the lobby. There she found the guard behind the desk arguing with a visitor.

"If you could just leave a message for her-"

"Dr Lawson has specific instructions not to be disturbed."

"I'm not asking you to disturb her. A discreet message to be picked up at her convenience. I do not care how long it takes, I will wait."

"That could be several hours."

It took time for Miranda to register exactly what she was witnessing. Nea Skouros stood in front of the reception desk, exasperation clearly evident in both her posture and tone. A flurry of reactions rose up in response - irritation that she had to deal with this, a clear pang of desire, and a measure of relief that she had something else to occupy her thoughts. Everything was overruled by a palpable - and surprising - sense of joy.

Both Nea and the security guard turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

"My apologies, Dr Lawson-" the guard began.

"It's quite alright, David," Miranda addressed the suddenly flustered guard. "I'll take this matter from here."

All trace of irritation had already disappeared from Nea's face, replaced by a warm smile as Miranda approached.

Aware that they were in a public place, well within earshot of the guard on the desk, Miranda kept her tone formal. "Dr Skouros, this is an unexpected pleasure."

"Indeed, although I can hardly visit Nevos without stopping by to...check on the progress of our contract." It was a blatant lie. The contract had been finalised and follow-up visits were not necessary.

"I-I was just leaving for the evening. Would you care to share my taxi? We can catch up en route to your destination."

In walking to the taxi rank and hailing a cab, they went through the motions of appearing to be nothing more than business partners. Their conversation cycled through the usual pleasantries. It wasn't until they were safely ensconced within a taxi that either let their guard down.

"There are few things that surprise me," Miranda murmured, not even daring to turn her head to look at Nea. "But you seem to excel at it."

"I have to admit," Nea began. "I was nervous that you would not appreciate my turning up unannounced, but I was more than prepared to risk your wrath."

Miranda turned to look at Nea with raised eyebrows. "My wrath?"

"You have to admit, it is formidable." Nea's eyes sparkled.

"And imprudent." Miranda inclined her head in admission. "But my surprise stems from the way we parted. I had thought that we would not meet again unless it was a business matter. You aren't...you're not actually here on business. Are you?"

Nea shook her head. She bit her lip, before reaching out to place her hand on Miranda's thigh. "No, I am not. I was hoping - if it is not too presumptuous - that my visit would be entirely for mutual pleasure."

The touch sent a jolt of desire coursing through Miranda's body. It would have been all too easy to fall into an embrace – removing the need for further conversation and helping her to temporarily forget about the whole mess with Oriana. Instead she looked down at Nea's hand. After a few moments, she entwined their fingers. The gesture felt reassuringly familiar. She finally looked at Nea. Not just a physical glance, but something more. Staring past physical beauty to see someone with whom she felt safe.

"If I took mutual pleasure out of the equation…at least for tonight, would that change anything?" Miranda asked, unable to keep a slight trace of hesitation from her voice.

"Well, it depends whose pleasure we're talking about - oh…me and my misplaced levity." Nea's smile disappeared and was replaced by an apologetic wince for a moment, before settling into serious empathy. "Miranda, I'm so sorry. Nothing would change and I certainly wouldn't regret being here with you. What do you need from me?"

"Talk to me?"

Nea's eyes widened slightly. "I thought that was something we didn't do?"

"It was." Miranda nodded. "But I'd like to change that."


	12. A Reminder of Mortality

**2186 CE**

**London, Earth**

Ash has never considered what hell might look like. She’s never considered herself as having much of an imagination. How it might look. How it might _feel_. Hell has always been an abstract concept. However, as she tries to claw herself out of the mud in the wasteland that is London, she knows hell. This is it.

The stench. The heat. Chaos. Screams. Friends dying.

Somehow, she manages to stand just as a second concussive blast slams mercilessly into her body. In a split second, she’s back in the mud. Her body slides. She ends up on her back, struggling for breath, staring up at an orange sky. A Kodiak arcs overhead, almost lazily, trailing flames in a downward trajectory.

A figure stands over her, blocking her view. Ash blinks. It's Shepard - wearing a mask of grim determination beneath the visor of her helmet. Ash stares stupidly at the proffered hand before realising it's intended for her. She reaches. The contact is like a slap to the face. Bringing her back to her senses. Ash retrieves her fallen rifle from the mud. She's ready to get herself back into the fight.

Another figure approaches. Wreathed in blue, Liara looks like a goddess.

"Ashley…?" Liara is unable to finish the question.

Ash nods emphatically to negate her lover's anxiety. "Five-by."

They're pushing through to the beam. Or at least they're trying to. Ash is suddenly gripped with panic. Wondering how the hell they're going to do this. It feels as though everything is being thrown at them. The squad they started out with has been decimated.

The beam is ahead of them, stretching skywards like a beacon. It's more likely to be their epitaph. That reality was brought into stark relief a few hours earlier when a brute ripped Tali open without pause. The fragile quarian died in the mud before they could call in an evac. They left Garrus cradling Tali’s body.

Ash doesn't have a death wish. It's the opposite. She has reason to live.

That reason is sprinting ahead of her. Liara moves gracefully as she hurls a singularity towards a group of husks. She could be dancing. Seconds later, the biotic detonation creates a mass of flying body parts. It's the impetus Ash needs to put a stop to her fatalistic thoughts. She'll keep following Shepard through this hell, whatever the outcome. They owe it to Tali and the myriad of others lying in the mud. Her legs feel like jelly as she runs, but they work well enough to propel herself forward after Shepard, rifle tucked securely against her shoulder.

Their plan is straightforward. Get to the beam.

Assault rifle fire patters against her waning shields. Two Marauders have them flanked. She hurls herself into cover behind a narrow slab of concrete. Shepard doesn’t pause, overloading the shields of the nearest. The current arcs out, paralysing the second Marauder as Shepard follows up with incinerate. The plasma round causes it to writh as it burns. Ash seizes the moment to fire off a concussive shot. The Marauder explodes in a grotesque shower of limbs. Liara finishes off the second, its shields depleted, with a single round to the head. There’s no warning, one moment she’s searching for the next threat, the next her body is picked up by a wall of flame and heat. She's flying, then falling. Although she hits the ground hard, her shields absorb most of the impact. Her ears are ringing and there's the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, but she just spits and pushes herself back to her feet. They need to keep moving.

Ash gets a sense that something has changed. She looks over her shoulder. Shepard is also picking herself out of the mud. There's a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she hastily searches for the familiar blue and white armour. She finds Liara, face down in the mud, unmoving. It shouldn't make any difference to their mission, but it's instinctive. Ash and Shepard are both running. Ash reaches Liara first, turns her over. Wide blue eyes are staring up at her from within a muddy face, still blinking.

“I am…okay.” Liara’s voice cracks slightly.

The sigh of relief has barely left Ash's lips when she sees blood pouring from a wide rent in Liara's armour. Instincts kick in. She presses the heel of her hand against the wound. Liara's resulting agonised cry makes her eyes burn.

"You've got to stay with me, Li!" It's not a plea, it's a demand. "I need you!"

Beside her, Shepard is already prepping a dose of medigel. Ash knows it won't be enough. She can feel the blood pulsing insistently against her hand. The pool of purple blood beneath Liara’s body grows and is soon swallowed by the mud. Liara needs a medbay or she'll be dead in minutes. Ash looks at Shepard. The fear in her Commander's gaze is palpable, reflecting her own.

Ash looks back at Liara. Her lover's lips are moving, but she can't hear the words over the chaos around them. It doesn't matter. Ash knows what Liara is saying. _Leave me._ There's no way in hell she's doing that. Not even with the fate of the Galaxy at stake. Then Shepard slaps a hand on her shoulder.

" _Normandy_? Come in, _Normandy_!" Shepard's voice is like a beacon. "I need an immediate evac at my position!"

_{It's not going to be pretty, Shepard, but we're coming in,}_ Joker's voice crackles over the comm.

Ash is incapable of expressing her gratitude. All she can do is offer up a taut nod.

"C'mon, Williams. They'll be coming in hot. We need to move."

The scream that Liara makes when they drag her to her feet is heart-breaking. They fall into the cover provided by an overturned Mako. Ash clutches Liara against her. With each passing second, she feels Liara grow weaker.

There's a roar overheard as the _Normandy_ manoeuvres into position, thrusters firing. It's an ill-advised move, risking an entire ship for one person, but that's not Ash's concern. Liara sags between her and Shepard, barely holding onto consciousness. In the midst of a hail of gunfire, the ship's ramp lowers. Ash mutters a silent prayer. Over and over.

"You've got her, LC," Shepard is yelling as they cover the remaining distance. "Stay with her."

It's a tempting offer. Ash can't deny that she wants it, but duty instinctively kicks in. "No way in hell am I leaving you to do this alone, Skipper!"

She can't keep the reluctance from her voice. The Galaxy is on the brink, and all she wants is to be with Liara. She's protesting, but her actions don't back up her words. A marine takes over Shepard's place helping her with Liara. Then Chakwas is there and Ash can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Liara has a chance. She turns to look at Shepard. Hoping that somehow the sight of the Commander standing alone will kick some sense back into her.

"Skipper-"

"The _Normandy_ is yours, LC. Take care of her for me."

Shepard reaches out to grasp one of her hands in a firm grip.

"I'll keep her safe, Skipper. I'll be seeing you soon."

Shepard simply offers up a tight-lipped smile. They both know how unlikely that is.

The commander looks back towards the beam, as though fixing her destination clearly in her mind. There's a beat, then she turns back to Ash.

"Ash…when this is over, I need you to find Miranda. Tell her-" Shepard's resolute expression wavers slightly. She bites her lip and shakes her head before the determination returns. "Tell her…I love her."

At the back of her mind Ash is trying to process what Shepard has just asked of her. Are they thinking of the same Miranda Lawson? Ash has never liked the self-serving Cerberus bitch, but she's struck by the sadness of Shepard's admission.

"I will."

The promise that leaves her lips is fervent, but she wants Shepard to be able to do it herself when all of this is over.

The thoughts are fleeting, banished by more pressing concerns. Everything happens in a blur. Shepard is yelling over the comm, telling the _Normandy_ to get clear. The thrusters roar, starting to push the ship away from the ground and cutting off all further conversation.

Ash watches Shepard's small figure, sprinting in the distance, as the ramp closes. Inexplicably, she feels a small glimmer of hope. She knows that, whatever happens, Shepard will get the job done.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**Zephyr Coast, Thessia**

"Not that I don't enjoy spending time with you, Williams, but being driven Goddess knows where without an explanation isn't exactly my idea of a good time. Couldn't you have just taken me for a drink like a normal boss?"

Ash looked across at Kefali Gavin for a moment before turning her attention back to the road. The car had a self-drive function of course, but she'd always preferred to do things the old-fashioned way. Ever since Shepard had let her get behind the controls of the Mako, driving had brought her a sense of peace. A chance to clear her mind.

Kef had maintained her temper admirably for much of the past two hours, even with little information. She hadn't batted an eyelid when Ash turned up on her doorstep in Armali, simply saying that she had a job for her. It was only now that Kef was starting to get slightly disgruntled.

"You've got a job for me on the Zephyr Coast?" Kef continued when Ash didn't answer her. "Well, you could've picked a worse location I suppose."

The house was coming into view, between the glades of eris trees. Kef suddenly let out a low whistle of appreciation. Ash recognised it as a habit picked up from Danny, Kef's human bondmate who had died over Aite.

"Okay, whoever lives here, they have a seriously nice pad," Kef commented as the car drew up, now dwarfed by the house. She was clearly trying to take in everything at once – the house, its expansive grounds and views out over the coast. "Seriously nice."

"It's my place," Ash replied offhandedly as they exited the car, before belatedly realising that it was the first time she'd ever brought someone to the Zephyr Coast.

Even her own sisters had never visited. Somehow believing Ash's excuse that tourist visas were impossible to obtain.

"Your place? Okay Williams, we need to talk credits here because clearly one of us isn't getting paid enough – and it isn't the one with the seaside palace."

Ash frowned, looking up at the house for a moment. Compared to some of the residences in Thessia, it had always seemed quite modest. And it had always simply been 'home.'

"It's not a palace." She glanced worriedly at Kef. "Is it?"

Kef gave her an incredulous expression in return. "Ash, it's s fucking palace."

Discussing definitions was irrelevant. They were pressed for time. Ash started walking towards the house. "It's been in my bondmate's family for thousands of years."

"Bondmate?" Kef jogged to catch up to Ash, reaching out to grab her elbow and spinning her around. "Goddess, Williams, we've all got secrets but this is another level. You have a bondmate? What else are you hiding?"

Perfectly timed to answer Kef's question, a pair of high-pitched shouts went up from within the house. Alice and Theda, yelling out 'Dad' in unison, before throwing up a barrage of questions and exclamations that blended into one another to create a cacophony of noise. It was a sound that never failed to bring a smile to Ash's face. The pair of them came barrelling out of the door.

"Kids?" Kef whispered. "You have kids?"

With her longer legs, Alice easily outstripped her sister and reached Ash for the first hug. However, the hug was kept brief as Alice was clearly fascinated by her father's companion. Alice drew back, remaining close to Ash, but determined to create a grown-up impression. Theda opted for caution, throwing herself into a hug and remaining tucked behind Ash's legs.

"Alice, Theda, I'd like you to meet someone who works with me. This is Kef."

Alice tilted her chin up, studying the older asari carefully. "Are you a commando?"

"I was," Kef replied. "A long time ago. Now I spend all of my time keeping your Dad -"

A discreet glare cut Kef off mid-sentence. Ash had no desire to try and explain the nature of her work to her daughters. Not for another several decades at least.

"-busy. Your Dad and I are very, very busy in our utterly boring line of work."

"Okay!" Ash interrupted, saving Kef from having to attempt any more cover stories. "Introductions over, why don't the two of you go and fetch your _petalida_ set? Kef is an expert and I bet she can teach you a few tricks."

A series of whoops followed Ash's suggestion, before Alice was bundling Theda in the direction of the house. Their departure left the two adults in silence for a moment. Ash turned to look at Kef. For a moment, her business mask slipped into place. The same façade that she'd maintained throughout their professional relationship.

Meanwhile, Kef had her hands pressed to her temples, clearly struggling to process everything that she had seen and heard.

"Your children are…they're amazing, Ash, and so much like you. How the hell did you manage it? How the hell could you leave all of this to do what we do? On Omega last year, you were bleeding out in my arms and all that shit that went down on Aite…Goddess-" Kef paused and swallowed as she reigned in her emotions. She pointed in the direction the children had ran. "This is what you were about to tell me on Aite? About your family?"

Ash offered up a nod. "Yes. I trust you. Which is why I need you for another job. It's completely off the books."

"C'mon, all our jobs are off the books, Williams!" Kef refused to match Ash's detached tone. "I know you didn't bring me here just so I could play a game I haven't played for a century."

Ash's façade slipped, ruined by the mirth in Kef's eyes. Despite the gravity of what was to come, it felt good to see her old friend look genuinely happy. _Not just a mere friend_ , Ash thought, feeling the realisation come almost effortlessly. _My closest and dearest friend._

"You're right. I didn't."

"Just ask me to babysit your kids already," Kef said, her smile reaching her lips. "I'm going to say yes."

"It's potentially the most dangerous assignment I've ever given you," Ash joked as her heart swelled. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"

"I can wrestle a klixen with my bare hands, I'm pretty confident I can handle a couple of kids. Even if they're related to you."

* * *

 

Alice T'Soni watched her little sister drop her armload for the third time and growled in exasperation. She shifted the petalida balls she carried beneath one arm and dropped to her knees beside Theda.

"C'mon, Theda, this is taking ages. Just let me carry it all." Alice gathered up the targets, even as Theda stubbornly tried to retain her hold on them. "You don't need to impress Dad's friend."

Theda pouted. "Wanna help!"

Alice opened her mouth to snap at her sister, but she managed to hold back. Especially as Theda finally relinquished the targets and let her pick them all up. As she rose to her feet, now struggling herself, Alice realised that Theda had only dropped the targets because she was distracted. She watched as her sister sniffed the air, then broke into a broad grin.

"Challisa!"

The moment the word left Theda's lips, the unique and rich aroma wafting out of the kitchen met Alice's nostrils. Challisa cake was an undoubted favourite, made even more so by its rarity. It was reserved for birthdays and special celebrations only.

Alice frowned. No one was celebrating a birthday. And they'd both received a scolding just the previous evening for refusing to go to bed. A thought entered her head. She turned to face the direction of the front door as her mind worked, skirting the edges of a realisation. Suddenly, she knew exactly why the rare treat was being prepared. Without pausing to wait for Theda, Alice broke into an awkward jog. Her urgency was such that she didn't think to pause and set her armload down. She ran with a single-minded determination.

It was only when she reached the main foyer that Alice relinquished her hold on the _petalida_ set. She barely heard the clamour as the pieces smashed against the tiled floor. Her attention remained focused on the bags by the front door – stacked in a neat, precise pile. Alice took a few steps forward, her eyes darting over each bag in turn before staying fixed on the matching hard cases – each stamped with a stylised snake.

_Two cases_ , Alice thought, her stomach feeling oddly hollow. It was even worse than she feared. _Does that mean…they're both leaving?_

Alice lost track of time as she stood, surrounded by the pieces of her game. Her earlier excitement had long since vanished. Only the sound of footsteps behind her jerked her out of a trance. She spun around to find Theda beaming up at her. Her little sister's chin was already coated in sticky, red goo. Theda took another bite as she extended a second piece, squashed in her chubby fist, towards Alice.

"T! Where did you get that?" Alice demanded, staring at the clearly stolen cake in horror.

Theda shrugged, feigning innocence. "Found it."

"Hand it over before you get both of us in trouble!"

Being in a foul mood put a harsh edge to Alice's voice. She attempted to snatch both pieces of cake, succeeding only in grabbing the one Theda had offered to her - creating a veritable storm of cake crumbs as her sister retaliated.

The whole situation created an incriminating picture when their father walked in a few moments later. Their hands were smeared with cake, pieces covered the floor, and Theda had tears streaming down her face.

"Okay, this wasn't what I was expecting."

Alice spun around, completely missing the fact that there was no trace of anger in her Dad's voice.

"This isn't what it looks like!"

Ash walked forward and crouched down, immediately accepting a still sobbing Theda into her arms. To her credit, she didn't even flinch when she ended up with red goo on her shirt.

"Given that I have absolutely no idea what this even looks like, I'm going to skip straight to the explanation."

"Theda-" Alice's reply died on her lips as Theda turned her head. Big, liquid eyes stared at her. Waiting for the inevitable. She felt her anger slip away. "Theda and I were hungry. We stole the challisa. It was my idea really, so Theda shouldn't be punished."

"Well, given that the cake was intended for you both, I'm going to let this slide." Her Dad smiled. It was warm. "Just this once."

"What? You're not punishing us? But we stole the cake!" The protest was out before Alice could stop herself. Being introduced to Dad's friend, the bags, and the cake, it was the final piece of proof she needed. She shook her head in disbelief. "No…you're not leaving. Not again."

She was still shaking her head when she started running, legs pumping as fast as she could manage. Even as she heard voices calling after her, she kept running. Out of the house and into the garden. For a few minutes at least, Alice felt as though she could outrun the inevitable, it was pushed out of her mind by the wind and the exertion.

Only when her lungs started burning painfully did she stop, collapsing to her knees on the soft grass. She knelt, breathing heavily. Too exhausted to even cry. Instead she stared out at the ocean, trying to find some sense of peace in the chaos of the water.

The sticky goo on her hands dried and became crusty.

Minutes later, she felt a gentle hand on her crests. She didn't need to look up to know it was her Dad.

"You're leaving again." It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

"I am."

Her Dad knelt beside her. She wanted to pull away and draw closer at the same time. They remained there, simply staring. For some time, there was only the quiet whisper of the wind, carrying the tang of salt and the fragrance of eris trees in bloom. They were scents Alice usually loved, but today they were cloying and unpleasant.

"Is Mother going with you?" Alice already knew the answer.

"She is." Her Dad's voice was as soft and reassuring as ever. "Is that what all this is about, monkey? It's just a week or so for work. You know we'll be back before you even notice we're gone."

"What if you don't come back this time?" Alice blurted out, her question punctuated with a sharp sniff.

There were gentle but firm hands on her shoulders, turning her around. Alice stubbornly stared at her hands, before there was a finger beneath her chin, guiding her gaze upwards. She fought against it for a moment, but eventually surrendered. Her Dad was there, concern showing blatantly on her face. Alice fought to keep tears at bay.

"Why would I not come back? It's just work-"

"I know what you do. I know what's in those cases with the snake on them." Alice was annoyed that her lip kept trembling, but she stubbornly continued, "I'm not stupid."

"I never thought you were," was the gentle reply. "I guess…I just thought that you and your sister didn't know."

"Theda doesn't know. And I won't tell her. She's too little. It would freak her out." Alice was no longer on the verge of crying and the words flowed more easily. It made her feel better to finally tell her Dad what she knew. "I looked up what the snake was on the extranet. And last year when you were in hospital, you weren't sick, you were hurt. People hurt you. They nearly killed you."

Alice watched her father's throat work as she swallowed, made uncomfortable by the direction of the conversation. She was very much aware that she was the cause of that discomfort. A part of her hated growing up, just as she hated knowing things. Like how little time she had left with her father when compared to the long years of her own life span. Was it selfish to want as much time as possible?

"Just promise me you'll both come back. Please?"

"We'll do our best, monkey." Her father then picked up one of her dirty hands, frowning at the remains of challis ingrained there. "And when I get back, there are going to be some serious consequences for stealing cake."

"There are?" Alice wondered if it had been a good idea to confess to the thievery.

"I'm talking extra biotic training, circuit training with your old Dad yelling at you every step of the way…maybe even-"

"Teaching me how to field-strip your sniper rifle?" Alice suggested hopefully.

"Don't push your luck, Alice."

* * *

 

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Miranda's eyelids fluttered open. She was on her stomach, cheek smooshed into her pillow, hair falling forward over her eyes. From the shafts of sunlight drifting through the blinds, it appeared to be well into late morning. Beyond that, she had no idea of the exact time and she couldn't care less. Time had lost all sense of importance. There was just the soft haven of her bed, and the knowledge that there was another body lying next to her. She sighed when memories entered her mind, reminding her exactly why she was still in bed in the middle of the day.

As Miranda shifted and slowed rolled over, her body offered a more physical reminder of her early morning exertions. Her thighs ached in a satisfying way and the insides of her legs were coated in dried fluids - not all of which was her own. She flopped onto her back and stared across at her still sleeping bed partner. Nea was on her stomach, one hand tucked beneath her chin, the other reaching out towards Miranda.

Memories lingered. Pleasant ones.

There had been talk, just as Miranda had requested. A lot of talk. After some initial anxiety. It had flowed more easily than Miranda had expected. About Oriana. Work. Even her relationship with Jack.

Over the course of several hours, Nea had listened, offering up encouragement and brief comments.

There was only one subject that Miranda did not broach. That subject was always off limits.

Eventually there had been tears. Tears for Oriana. For Jack. For herself. She had been anxious that the tears made her appear pathetic. It hadn't mattered. She'd been folded into Nea's arms, falling asleep to the gentle motion of her hair being stroked.

They'd both woken early that morning, still nestled in each other's arms. Gentle touches and whispers eventually became lovemaking. From her first orgasm - coaxed beneath Nea's gentle fingers - to the last – her cries muffled by the fact that her tongue was buried in Nea's azure - Miranda had lost all desire to participate in her daily routine.

She reached across and trailed her fingers gently down Nea's back, lingering possessively over her ass cheeks. She did not feel apologetic when Nea cocked one eye open. Instead she felt a ridiculous smile tug at her lips.

"What time is it?" Nea asked blearily.

"I honestly don't know," Miranda replied, unconcerned. Her smile widened. "I can't remember the last time I did this."

Nea's other eye opened. She blinked herself closer to full wakefulness. "I'm pretty sure I had you in a couple of those positions the last time I was in your bed."

"Oh." Miranda laughed lightly "No, I meant I can't remember the last time I took a day off work on a whim."

"Knowing you as well as I do," Nea mused, rubbing her face against the pillow for a moment. "I'm going to go with never."

The effortless teasing felt good. Natural. Something that Miranda was unused to, but very rapidly coming to appreciate. Her skin came alive when Nea reached out, trailing fingers over her chest with a feather light touch, moving lower. The pads of Nea's fingers came to rest on the one blemish on her body. The small, puckered patch of skin low on her abdomen.

"What happened?" Nea asked in a whisper.

"I found myself on the pointy end of a psychopath's sword during the Reaper War."

"I find it hard to imagine someone being able to get the drop on you with a sword."

"Well…he was good. Very good. Someone who worked for my former employer. Cerberus."

It was an admission Miranda had never made with a lover. Her past had always been irrelevant in those temporary liaisons – especially when it touched on her employment history. Anxiety crept in as she watched the play of emotions across Nea's face upon the recognition of the name. Lips parted in surprise. Then closed into a thin line. Eyes hard. Anger. As Miranda would have expected.

"I hope you know that your past doesn't matter to me."

She'd been mistaken. Nea's expression wasn't one of anger but determination. It was Miranda's turn to be surprised.

"Who you were before," Nea continued. She reached out to touch Miranda's temple. "The secrets you carry with you. None of that matters. I know you're a good person."

_I don't deserve such trust._ "You've barely scratched the surface."

Nea licked her lips. Hesitated before speaking. "Then perhaps one day in the future, on your own terms, you will let me in?"

The inference was unmistakeable. One day in the future. That there was a future they would share.

"And if I can't?" Miranda asked, failing to keep a slight tremor from her voice.

The response came swiftly. Nea shuffled closer, taking charge as she entwined their limbs. Throughout every moment, there was a tenderness that Miranda knew she doesn't deserve.

"Miranda…I didn't pay a visit to Nevos en route to anywhere. I'm not here for work. I'm here solely for you. Because I wanted…needed to see you. I-"

Nea paused again. Lips parted as she struggled to say something. Miranda sensed what was coming. The words that she knew intimately despite never having uttered them to a lover. A decades old memory resurfaced.

_I'm in love with you…_

Pressing forward, Miranda silenced Nea with a heated kiss. She didn't need to hear the words.

"I know," she whispered in the space between their lips. "I know."


	13. A Better Offer

**2186 CE**

**London, Earth**

The London skyline is a blasted representation of what it once was. Yet somehow Westminster Abbey still stands. A hollowed shell, blackened where flames have licked at its ancient walls. It’s supposedly a focal point for their victory. A last resting place of Kings, Queens, Poets and other worthies. And now a galactic hero. Or at least the empty coffin of one.

Ashley closes her eyes and tries to find some form of solace in the words that are being spoken. The familiar phrases from her childhood are spoken in earnest. They should be reassuring. It should be easy to find the peace she craves.

They've won. The Reapers have been defeated. They can move on with their lives.

Instead an irrational anger creeps into her thoughts as she stares at the coffin. Takes hold. If only she'd been with Shepard at the end, then maybe they wouldn't be standing here. They would be celebrating, not mourning.

_You're over-estimating your own worth_ , Ash needs to remind herself. _Shepard knew exactly what she was doing_.

The reminder doesn't make things any easier.

She feels a light touch against the back of her hand. Then slim fingers thread their way between hers and latch on gently. Ash turns to look at Liara. Her lover's eyes are shining with unshed tears, but there's concern there.

_Are you okay?_ Liara mouths.

Ash realises that she'd been clenching her jaw, as though in pain. She nods quickly and tries to relax. It's a task that's made easier when Liara nestles into her side, creating a pleasant warmth. Her heart swells. This is the future that Shepard died for.

A prayer finishes. Although her 'amen' sounds fervent enough, Ash can help but think that the whole thing is for the benefit of those gathered. Most of whom didn't know the real Shepard. It's for the cameras broadcasting the funeral across the Galaxy, making it into some sort of spectator sport for even more strangers.

Ash seeks familiarity in the faces of those closest to her. Shepard's family. The crew who served with her aboard the _Normandy_. For some reason, her gaze bypasses everyone and lands on Miranda Lawson.

Her response – an almost apathetic loathing – is automatic. She can count their interactions on one hand, but their first meeting on a grassy knoll on Horizon in the aftermath of the Collector attack had ensured that they would never be friends. In hindsight, Ashley isn't proud of the way she had reacted to finding out Shepard was working with Cerberus, but Miranda's vehement defence of both the terrorist organisation and her commander still leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She has never even processed the other emotions that arose in response to the Cerberus officer. The jealousy that this stranger was Shepard's new XO. The instantly suppressed sexual attraction and – this had come much later – her indescribable gratitude for bringing Shepard back to them.

" _Ash, when this is over, I need you to find Miranda. Tell her…tell her I love her."_

On the surface, it is easy enough to believe. Miranda is – for lack of more descriptive words – intimidatingly gorgeous. Although Ashley doesn't believe for a moment that Shepard, of all people, would have been attracted to a person based on looks alone. Perhaps there is something else that the Commander saw, something beneath Miranda's icy, haughty exterior deserving of love.

Ashley is suddenly hyper aware of the warmth of Liara's body against her own. She berates herself for making uninformed assumptions about other people's feelings and presses her lips against Liara's forehead.

"I'm not okay," she whispers, her voice breaking under the strain. "Shepard deserved to be here."

The only thing she can be sure of for certain is that Liara brings joy and a fulfilment into her life. Ashley presses her lips tight with determination. She gently disengages herself from Liara's embrace and turns to where she had seen Miranda standing just a few moments earlier.

Miranda is gone.

* * *

 

Miranda finds no comfort in Shepard's funeral. There's a cloying sense of claustrophobia. Everything about it feels wrong. From the pompous, hollow words being spoken to the vid cameras filming the whole damn thing for the consumption of a ravenous public.

And she also feels alone. Even surrounded by the familiar faces.

Being shunned isn't the reason. She's among family. Earlier, she traded pleasantries with most of the old crew. Jacob, nervous but beaming, standing beside his heavily pregnant wife. Grunt, managing to look at her face instead of her tits for once. Garrus slapping her on the back, just like an old comrade in arms.

Samantha Traynor is dating Oriana. The young woman is reserved and hesitant around Miranda, even as Oriana prods her forward to introduce herself. Samantha is harmless enough, but Miranda gives the relationship six months at the most.

Liara enfolds her in a warm hug, sincerity surprising them both. Only Ashley Williams remains aloof. The marine stares at her throughout the ceremony. While Ashley's expression isn't hostile, it's probing and unnerving. Drilling a hole straight through her.

She can't stop thinking about those who aren't there. Her fellow crew members, whom she’d fought alongside during the long hunt for the Collectors. Mordin, hell, she'd always liked that damn Salarian. Even if on the face of things, she envied his intellect and was irritated by his disregard for proper protocol. Thane – she’d never fully trusted the assassin, but he had given his last ounce of strength for Shepard on the Citadel. Tali, whom Miranda had always thought insipidly useless, turned out to be braver than she had ever given her credit for. Braver than all of them really.

Bar one.

Shepard isn't here. Because Shepard died saving the Galaxy. They found no trace of her at all in the ruins of the Citadel. Trust Shepard to do dying better than anyone else. All Miranda can think about is the lifetime of wasted chances that stretch behind her, like a litany of errors.

_"You're a selfish child, Shepard. Neither of us have any place in our lives for this at the best of times, certainly not now. I'm not compromising our mission by dragging meaningless fucking into it."_

There will be no more chances. Just a lifetime without her.

Miranda's façade almost cracks. She can hear the sound before it leaves her lips. One single scream of anguish piercing the silence. Giving voice to the crushing grief she's keeping to herself. The sound remains behind her teeth.

The proceedings aren't finished, but Miranda can't afford to break down in front of these people. On camera for the whole Galaxy to see. She quickly and discreetly threads her way out of the small crowd. Almost breaks into a run with her need to escape.

Beyond the barely standing façade of the abbey, the rest of Westminster lies in ruins. It's easy to lose herself.

She sinks onto a handsome set of marble stairs now leading nowhere. Stares out at the ruins without seeing anything. The promised scream never emerges. Instead she laughs.

Laughter bubbles from her lips as though she's at a fucking dinner party. She can't stop. It tumbles out until she's hunched over and shaking.

It's only when she hears the sound of footsteps crunching in the rubble that she stops - abruptly. She finds Jack standing in front of her, arms folded across her chest. Miranda waits for the inevitable derision to come from the other woman, but it never does. Instead Jack regards her with an almost thoughtful expression.

"You're right," Jack eventually says. "That was some fucking hilarious bullshit. Who the hell got that sanctimonious asshole to preside over her funeral?"

"Someone…felt it was what humanity needed. That it might bring a sense of peace."

Miranda's explanation sounds hollow to her own ears. She knows for a fact that Shepard didn't have a religious bone in her body. Nor would the dead marine have thought she deserved the honour of being enshrined in the ruins of Westminster Abbey. Miranda tries to tell herself that it's all just symbolism, but she can't let it go. Or maybe she can't let Shepard go.

That thought pushes her over the edge. Miranda finally cracks. Not one tear throughout the whole damn funeral and she's crying like a baby in front of Jack. Huge, gulping tears. The kind that are as ugly as hell.

The footsteps crunch a little closer. Jack pats her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Fuck, Cheerleader. If you wanted a fucking hug you should've cried in front of Grunt," Jack says after waiting for the tears to subside. "Let's get out of here before you turn into an even bigger mess. You got a bed somewhere?"

"Yes." Miranda sniffs, hastily scrubbing away tears. She's Normandy. Practically royalty in this new world. Someone found her a surprisingly clean pre-fab a few days ago. She's barely slept a few hours though. Sleeping seems like a luxury none of them can afford. "Why? I can't exactly envisage you putting me to bed."

Jack snorts derisively. "I'm not talking about sleeping, you bubble-assed bimbo. Let's fuck."

Of all the bad timing in the world, Jack has the worst. Miranda isn't remotely amused. "It wasn't funny the first time you suggested it and it bloody well isn't funny now."

"Not trying to be funny." Jack rolls her eyes. "I'm talking about you and me getting naked and getting each other off - fingers, tongues…, hell, fists, whatever floats your boat."

"Jack! Piss off."

Unfortunately, Jack is persistent. "C'mon. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't?"

"We hate each other."

"I said a _good_ reason."

"I'm not attracted to women."

Jack laughs heartily, almost doubling over with mirth. "Seriously...you're going to try that one on me? So, you were just putting on an act whenever Shepard was around?"

"Fuck you, Jack." _When the hell did a psychotic ex-convict get to be so observant?_

"C'mon, bitch, when was the last time you got laid?"

Miranda's thoughts immediately go back to the night with Shepard on the Citadel, when she'd once again fucked everything up. Now it's too late for anything. Shepard is gone. She tries not to let her distress show on her face.

Jack's persistence is now becoming irritating. "I'm available. I don't have any diseases…or at least any that I know of. I had a shower a couple of days ago. Hey, I'll even call you _Miranda_ if that'll help?"

Her name emerges as though it leaves a sour taste on Jack's tongue. If Miranda doesn't know better, she would think that Jack needs this as much as she does.

"You're not going to get a better offer," Jack continues. She's smirking now, sensing victory.

There are few things Miranda hates more than Jack being right. "Fine, but you're having another shower first."

Jack's grin spreads across her entire face.

* * *

 

It starts well enough.

Jack is still wet from her shower when she comes to her. Tattooed body already bared.

There's no time for hesitation or a change of mind. There's only nakedness, exploring hands, kissing. It's rough, but Miranda doesn’t expect it any other way with Jack. Just because they're fucking, it doesn't mean they've stopped hating one another.

Miranda never thought she'd get hot for Jack, but she is. Embarrassingly so.

Everything turns weird when they get horizontal.

Jack forces Miranda onto her back. Jack needs to be on top. Miranda tries to relax. As Jack enters her, a sharp cry of delight emerges from her throat. Jack fills her, almost sating desires that have lingered for years. Her hips thrust to meet Jack’s palm – grinding and seeking. It’s everything she needs, driving her to the verge of orgasm in moments.

As good as it feels, she can't relinquish that kind of control.

Or she doesn't want to give Jack the satisfaction of making her come mere minutes after being touched.

She rolls them both over with the pretext of returning the favour for Jack. The movement is enough to forestall her orgasm and salvage her pride. Her own cunt is throbbing as she buries two fingers up to her knuckle inside Jack’s.

From then on, everything is out of sync. It's impossible to establish any sort of rhythm. Jack fucks hard and fast. When Miranda tries to time her movements with Jack's, the tempo changes. Eventually they're both trying too hard. She's hot and bothered, but barely closer to getting off than when they started.

Jack's palm slamming against her clit is now more pain than pleasure.

"Jack." Despite the situation, Miranda's whisper is tender. "Stop."

"Fuck." Jack obviously feels it too. She rolls away from Miranda and flops onto her back. "Well that was a fucking waste of time."

They lie in silence. Sweat cools on their bodies.

Miranda doesn't know whether to feel disappointed or amused about the sex. It's becoming less important. She shifts her weight. Rolls over she her body is pressed the length of Jack's. Nothing has changed. It's still Jack, but even the ex-convict is a soft, warm body.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack asks the question but doesn't make the move to push Miranda away.

"Just shut up, Jack," Miranda murmurs as she closes her eyes and wraps an arm around Jack's waist.

By the time Miranda feels a heavy arm drape over her shoulders and a hand threading through her hair, she's well on her way to sleep.


	14. Righto, folks

**2186 CE**

**Vancouver, Earth**

Her fingers rap out a staccato beat on the table in front of her. At first, Ashley can’t tell whether it’s impatience or nerves. She’s been in the room for less than five minutes, so she suspects it’s the latter. No, she knows it’s the latter. Even a dumb grunt like her can work out that something isn't right.

The War ended three months ago, barely long enough for the shell-shocked expressions to fade from the faces of those around her. Nowhere near long enough for the devastation to be repaired. They’ll be burying bodies for months to come. 

A day off is a luxury none of them can afford. Ash can count the number of times she has seen Liara on one hand. Just a handful of snatched moments. Once, it was nothing more than a look from afar just before the _Normandy_ shipped out yet again. Nevertheless, it’s been enough to remind Ash that she has a future to look forward to.

Her lover’s actions are omnipresent. Not a day goes by where Ash doesn’t sense Liara working from the shadows. A supply drop to a starving colony that government aid hasn’t been able to reach. Slavery rings taken out efficiently, before they can even start preying on civilians. No doubt there are dozens, if not hundreds, more acts that Ash can’t possibly notice. The Shadow Broker Network is like a benevolent virus, spreading out, curing as opposed to infecting. She has nothing but admiration for what Liara is doing. That doesn’t stop her from loathing the fact that she shares her lover with the rest of the Galaxy. In selfish moments, born out of exhaustion, she wishes that Liara would give it up, regardless of the ruin that would entail. Mostly Ash tries to focus on more realistic hopes – like one night together. 

Footsteps beyond the door of the small room force her back to the present. She’s busy cultivating an aura of bored nonchalance when the door opens. The boredom is discarded in a split second. The time it takes for her to recognise Admiral Hackett. Ash snaps to attention so quickly she fears she’s sprained something.

“At ease, Williams.” 

The door doesn’t close immediately behind Hackett. Three more men enter – a Captain and two enlisted men - making the small room seem unnecessarily crowded. Ash blatantly scans their faces. None of them are known to her, but her instincts tell her that the Captain is a desk jockey.

“Take a seat,” Hackett offers the invitation as he sits on the opposite side of the table.

One of his companions, the Captain, helps himself into another seat while the other two men remain standing by the door.

“My apologies for taking you out of the field, Williams. I hear you’re doing excellent work,” Hackett continues.

“Thank you, sir. I’m just doing my best. As we all are.”

Silence descends aside from the awkward scraping of chairs as the hatchet-faced Captain moves closer to the table. The realization comes suddenly. This isn’t a meeting, it’s an interrogation. The tiny, featureless room. The two marines aren’t just standing by the door, they’re barring it. Her jaw tightens in pre-emptive anger.

“How are the crew of the _Normandy_ holding up?”

Hackett’s still trying to make small talk. He’s a good man. Ash has always respected him. But now she can see that something is making him uncomfortable. 

“They’re doing their duty, sir,” Ash replies. The crew of the _Normandy_ are barely holding together. They’re fried and desperately need some R and R. “I’m just eager to find out what the hell’s going on so I can get back to them.”

“Commander Williams, this is Captain Segura.” Hackett’s introduction is abrupt. “He’s based here at HQ.”

Ash nods. “A pleasure, sir.” It’s anything but a pleasure. 

Ash has never been all that adept at reading people, but Hackett’s discomfort is blatantly obvious. It’s not an expression that Ash is used to seeing from the Admiral. She’s unnerved, but forces herself to maintain a mask of professionalism.

Captain Segura’s first move is to slap a datapad down on the table. Ash smirks at the blowhard gesture. The smirk disappears the moment she glances at the image displayed on the pad. It’s a face she knows as well as her own. Ash schools herself to remain calm.

She lifts her eyebrows expectantly. “I presume you’re going to tell me why you just slammed a picture of Liara T’Soni down in front of me. Sir?”

The ‘sir’ is tacked on as an afterthought. Segura’s nose twitches slightly in irritation. “I’ll be blunt, Commander Williams. Are you involved in a physical relationship with Dr Liara T’Soni?”

Ash doesn’t see how this is related to her job. Even soldiers have relationships. Get married. “It’s hardly a secret these days-”

“A simple yes or no would suffice,” Segura interrupts coldly.

“Yes, sir,” Ash replies. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end.  

“And prior to this, the two of you did maintain this relationship in secret for some years, whilst on active duty?”

_Is that what this is about?_ Ash sees no point in lying now. “Yes, sir.”

“So, you would be fully aware of Dr T’Soni’s actions throughout that period?”

Ash frowns. “Liara fought with distinction throughout the Reaper War, in dozens of campaigns. From Mars to London. She was pivotal to our success on numerous occasions.”

“Ah yes, about that, her importance. Is it true she provided Commander Shepard with significant resources and information?”

At this point Ash’s body is rigid with anger. “Liara was an information broker on Ilium before the War. She was very good at her job. Sir, with all due respect, you still haven’t answered my question. Why is this picture on the table?”

Segura ignores her disrespect. “The label ‘a very good information broker’ would be a colossal understatement. Wouldn’t it, Commander Williams?”

“Sir?”

“Throughout the War, Dr Liara T’Soni channelled significant resources to the war effort – munitions, information, expertise – on an unparalleled scale. She was not able to do this simply by virtue of being ‘a good information broker’ as you so charmingly put it.”

“And how would you put it?” Ash doesn’t even bother with the ‘sir.’ She’s more than ready to leap across the table and smack the smug expression from the Captain’s face with a well-placed fist.

“Liara T’Soni was able to contribute in that capacity because she was – and remains to this day-” Segura’s now smiling like a cat in cream “-the Shadow Broker.”

Suddenly the room feels claustrophobic. Nothing in Ash’s training has prepared her for a situation like this. Secrets laid bare for all the world to see. The need to school her face to remain calm while her entire world caves in around her. It feels like she’s failing, but the voice that emerges from her throat sounds like someone in control.

“That’s absolutely ludicrous. How could anyone in their right mind be convinced that Liara is the Shadow Broker?”

Segura raises his eyebrows. “Be aware that you are lying to a superior officer, Commander. Not to mention Fleet Admiral Hackett.”

It’s obvious that she’s not going to get anywhere with Segura. He’s an ass-licking desk jockey of the type she has no time for. Instead she turns to Hackett, trusting that he is still the man she thinks he is.

“Admiral Hackett, sir, you know Liara. You _know_ she’s not the Shadow Broker.”

Hackett shifted in his seat. Sighed. “This isn’t a witch hunt, Commander. And there are no negative consequences for the truth being revealed. We’re talking about mutual benefit. “

Ash just sits and stares at a man she thought she knew. When Hackett can no longer continue to meet her gaze, she knows that he cannot – or will not – help her. There’s only one person she can rely on in this situation. Herself. And Ash will be damned before she’ll let anything slip. Thinking her way out of a problem has never been her strong suit, but her mind is working overtime now. Wondering how far the Alliance will go to get her to reveal the truth. A part of her doesn’t want to believe that they’ll go as far as torturing her, but the thought is there nevertheless.

“If you’ve got proof that Liara is the Shadow Broker, I’d love to see it.” Ash baits them, knowing full well that Liara is too meticulous to leave any crumbs behind. “Because it would be news to me.”

“Our proof lies in reliable testimony that Liara T’Soni _is_ the Shadow Broker-”

A laugh escapes Ash’s throat. They’re basing all of this on someone’s word? “You can be serious? Who could possibly have convinced you to believe such lies?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “What a bunch of fucking morons.” 

“Be aware of what you are saying in the presence of senior officers, Commander Williams,” Segura says as he leans forward, hatchet face even more granite-like. “Notwithstanding your conduct in this moment, there are serious consequences for any form of deception. It is in your best interests to tell the truth. Not to mention, Dr T’Soni’s best interests.”  

“There’s nothing to tell!” Ash doesn’t try to keep the desperation from her voice.  The innocent can be just as desperate as the guilty.

“We have every reason to believe that there is much to tell. Our source is beyond reproach. Liara T’Soni is the Shadow Broker-” 

“Who?” Ash interrupts curtly.

She can count the number of people who know that Liara is the Shadow Broker on her hands, with fingers to spare. Especially now that two of them – Shepard and Tali - are dead.

“Enough.” Segura makes a curt motion with his hand to no one in particular. “I am done talking, Williams. Clearly the only way we’re going to get through to you is via demonstration.”

Ash is seething at the continuing smug expression on his face when the surface of the wall beside her changes. It’s not a wall at all, but a window. In a heartbeat, she rises to her feet. Her chair is thrown backwards with a loud crash. The room on the other side of the polarised glass is empty save for one lone individual seated at the centre.

Liara.

Her bondmate’s hands are restrained. By itself, that’s not enough to stop a powerful biotic, but there’s a heavy metal device around Liara’s neck. A biotic restraining field. Ash instinctively knows that no one would have been able to get the damn thing around Liara’s neck unless by force. Which means they’ve hurt her in some way. She hammers on the glass with her fists for several, futile seconds before she realises that it’s impervious to her efforts. Next, she rounds on Hackett and Segura, fervently wishing she was carrying a sidearm.

“What the hell is this?” Ash doesn’t give a fuck that she’s yelling at her superiors. If she had her damn weapon, she’d have shoved it in their faces. “Since when did the Alliance start locking people up without cause?”  

“We have all the cause we need, Williams.” Segura’s voice retains the smug edge. More so now that she has lost her temper. “The only unknown quantity is you.”

“Commander Williams,” Hackett finally speaks. His tone is weary as he attempts to persuade her. “We would like your help. Convince the Shadow Broker that she needs to work with us if we’re to be able to restore order to the Galaxy.”

Her teeth grind audibly. Liara has been helping the Alliance to the best of her ability since the War ended, but she hasn’t been prioritising humans over any other race. Ash knows that is what they – Hackett and Segura – want the Shadow Broker to do. Humanity first. Their own private Shadow Broker. Not working with them. Working _for_ them.

“Can I see Liara?”

“Will you help us?” Hackett asks.

“No.”

“Then no.” It’s Segura who responds. His voice is blunt with cruelty.

“Are you going to lock me up too?”

“Until you change your mind-”

“No,” Hackett interrupts Segura. His voice is authoritative for the first time. “You’re free to go. Although the _Normandy_ will be returning to active duty without you. You’re confined to base.”

That blow should have rocked her to her core, but Ash can’t bring herself to care. By holding Liara against her will, the Alliance have already made her decision for her.

“Understood.” Ash moves towards the door. Before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder. Segura is giving her the full force of his glare. Hackett is staring at his hands. “I understand why men like _him_ do it, but not you, sir. Not you.”

Once outside the room, Ash starts moving at a brisk walk. She needs to get the hell out of the building. Outside. Where she can suck in a lungful of fresh air and clear the thoughts raging within her head. The urge to overpower the first person she sees with a weapon and break Liara out herself. Even in her current state she’s knows that would mean suicide for them both. It won’t work. Not without help.

Fortunately, her lover _is_ the Shadow Broker. Ash has access to all the resources she needs. And she knows that Aethyta won’t need to be asked twice.

_Fuck!_ Everything has happened too fast. Fifteen minutes earlier she was a career officer. Now everything is in ruins. She pauses for a moment to catch her breath. Leans against a wall behind her as tears prick her eyes. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes Shepard were still alive. Ash knows without a doubt that this whole mess would not have happened on Shepard’s watch.

Ash scrubs at her eyes for a second. She looks up just in time to see a familiar individual walk out of an adjacent room.

Miranda Lawson.

Suddenly everything falls into place. The small group of people who know that Liara is the Shadow Broker – one of them is Miranda Lawson.

“Hello, Ashley.” Miranda looks drawn and tired. “Are you alright?”

They’ve never been on friendly terms, but all Ash can see is guilt. A red mist falls in place and her composure goes to hell. Before she can even think about stopping herself, her fist is flying towards Miranda’s face. It collides with a satisfying intensity, enough to knock Miranda from her feet.

“It was you!” Ash feels flecks of spittle leave her mouth. “You told them who she was, you fucking cunt!”

Miranda looks up at her, eyes wide with what Ash perceives to be fake surprise. Her lip is split and bleeding profusely. Miranda shakes her head vigorously even as Ash grabs her by the front of her jacket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play innocent with me, you goddamn Cerberus bitch.”

The second punch is harder than the first, but somehow Miranda stays on her feet. Ash advances, but there’s no third. Instead she is blinded by a blue corona. The next thing she’s aware of is that her world has been turned upside down and she’s spinning. The mass effect fields are tugging at her body. No, not just tugging – tearing. It’s excruciating, but Ash doesn’t utter a sound.

It feels like an age, but in reality it’s only a matter of seconds. Ash drops to the floor like a stone, hitting hard. She can’t help but grunt in pain.

When her vision clears, Miranda Lawson is gone. She’s left with only the realisation that everything is now hanging on a knife edge.

* * *

 

**2208 CE**

**SSV _Gallipoli,_ en route to Lusia, Tomaros System**

As the elevator carried them upwards, Ash had the opportunity to inspect the _Gallipoli_ in minute detail. There was no doubt that the vessel was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. She was one of the newest Midway-class frigates. Although the design had replaced the ageing Normandy-class five years earlier, their expense meant that few had been built.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Liara whispered in awe.

“If you like your frigates over-designed and under-powered,” Ash muttered uncharitably.

It was natural for her to feel a sense of resentment, at both the vessel and all that it stood for, but she managed to fix a polite expression on her face. Or, at least she did following a swift jab in the ribs from Liara’s elbow. If she was being completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she missed the Alliance Navy and the military in general. The sense of routine and order that had shaped her as a young woman. The pride of belonging to the same institution as her Dad – even after it had screwed him over and had tried to do the same - no, worse - to her.

The elevator reached the top of the gangway. Ash expected a welcome party of some sort, but to her delight she found only two old friends. Major James Vega was grinning from ear to ear. Garrus Vakarian had a twinkle in his eyes that suggested the expression on his grizzled face was a grin.

“Dios. It’s about frickin’ time,” Vega bounced on his heels in obvious delight. “We’re ready to tear up some shit now that Blue is here!”

_Are we hugging?_ Ash mused as the elevator ground to a halt. _Or is it more of a handshake occasion?_  

“Hello, James.”

Liara solved Ash’s internal dilemma by unashamedly slipping into Vega’s bear hug. Ash just scowled in response to being ignored.

“And nice of you to bring Williams along to carry your gear,” Vega added with a wink in Ash’s direction.

The scowl deepened. Mercifully for Vega’s sake, Garrus stepped in her firing line, hand extended.

“Come here, you old bastard,” Ash muttered, throwing her arms around Garrus’ hardsuit and dragging him close.

“It’s good to see you, Ashley.”

He held her at arm’s length. Studying her through narrowed eyes as though assessing whether she was still the same solider he remembered.

Satisfied, Garrus let her go. “She didn’t say anything, but I could see that Traynor was relieved that the two of you decided to join us.”

“I’m still trying to work out whether it was a good idea,” Ash admitted softly. “Having you here makes that decision seem a little less stupid.”

Garrus moved on to greet Liara, leaving Ash staring at a sheepish Vega. He held up his hands in surrender. “Jokes aside, I’m looking forward to hitting the dirt again with you, Williams. Someone’s gotta make me look good.”

“Walking on thin ice, cabron, as always.”

The following hug was sincere but brief. Even a couple of decades weren’t long enough to thoroughly banish Vega’s awkward attempts at flirting the first time they’d met. Ash still remembered him laughably flexing his biceps in anticipation of her going gooey-eyed at the sight. She still treasured the memory of his expression after her reunion with Liara at the Prothean Archives on Mars.

_“You could’ve just told the guy you were with_ _Liara_ _, Williams,” Shepard had said at the time. “You know, before you were eating each other’s faces.”_

_“Not half as much fun,” was Ash’s satisfied reply._

"Is anyone else here?" Ash asked warily. “From the old crew I mean.”

“Why? We not enough for you?” Vega replied. He shook his head. “No, just the four of us and Admiral Traynor of course. Scuttlebutt has it that Traynor tried to bring Grunt onto the team, but his latest post is deep in the Traverse. Personally, I think we’ve got more than enough muscle to get the job done.”

Ash breathed a sigh of relief. No prospect of Miranda Lawson turning up then. Thank fuck. “Provided we find out what the damn job is.”

* * *

 

Half an hour later, with their gear stowed and with Ash’s initial assessment of the Gallipoli (it was even worse than she'd initially thought) proven correct, the team assembled in the vessel’s War Room. In addition to the contingent of Normandy veterans, there were about a dozen Alliance personnel. A couple of them had the look of bone fide space marines, but most looked like boffins to Ash’s eye. In her opinion, good for little other than spouting long strings of nonsense. Most of them, if not all, cast discreet glances in her direction. Although she had left the Alliance over two decades earlier, apparently her notoriety had not faded as she might have hoped.

One of the marines, a Gunnery Sergeant with a scar over one eye, gave Ash a sharp nod as she waked past. It took Ash a moment to realise that it was a gesture born out of respect. One soldier to another. She then looked at each of the marines. Each one nodded, even a young Lieutenant who looked barely old enough to be out of OCS.

While trying not to let the gestures go to her head, Ash remained standing while the others took seats near the central console. As she stood, she absently poked at one of the seats, finding it soft to the touch.

"You're more than welcome to take a seat, Ashley," Sam offered upon seeing Ash standing.

“It’s the War Room, it’s not supposed to have comfy seats.”

Vega chuckled loudly at her response. “I forgot how much fun you are to have around, Williams.”

If Ash was being honest with herself, she would have welcomed a comfy seat as much as the others. She was exhausted. Barely a day earlier she’d had nothing to do except play babysitter to her kids. Now she was in the middle of a powder keg, with only the merest spark required to set off a Galactic shitstorm. She needed to be standing for this.  

The consummate professional, Traynor started the briefing without adding to the nervous banter. She brought up a haptic representation of Pallini, one of the largest cities on Lusia. Typical of asari cities, the streets were laid out in a concentric design radiating out from a large central plaza. The view zoomed in, seamlessly shifting to a real-time feed. A Reaper was poised above the plaza. A stationary sentinel, unremarkable from the thousands of others in similar such positions across the Galaxy.

Standing guard above centres of power and industry. Seemingly idle and non-threatening. Children played beneath them. On some worlds, insolent youths had even dared to graffiti those places they could reach.

However, this one was poised above ruins. Its legs pierced the buildings beneath it as though they were paper. There was no mistaking the violence in the image. None of them had seen anything like it. At least not for almost a quarter of a century.

“Dios,” Vega hunched forward, closer to the image as he tried to take everything in.

Ash was even more succinct. “Fuck.”

“This isn’t like Omar Ker or Aite. There’s no way word about this attack can be contained,” Garrus commented in a weary tone. He looked up from the interface, towards Traynor. “Is there?”

Traynor gave away very little in her response. “It is contained for the time being, Garrus.”

If the others weren’t satisfied by such a feeble answer, they said nothing. Even as Traynor started talking, imparting information that Ash knew she ought to be listening to, she turned to Liara. Ash immediately recognized the dispassionate expression on her bondmate’s face.

Ash leaned down next to Liara’s ear. “What have you done?” she whispered.

Liara turned towards her, expression unchanged. “Whatever I had to do.”

Even as Ash felt her jaw clench in familiar anger, she knew it wasn’t the time or place to press the point. She caught Traynor looking at them and straightened, folding her arms across her chest as she tried to pay attention to the briefing.

“I’m afraid this situation is identical to the ones on Omar Ker and Aite-”

Traynor paused and took a deep breath. As she waved her hand, and the images displayed via the haptic interface changed. The images were grainy, barely discernible, but Ash was immediately taken back to the windswept colony of Aite. The crudely broken bodies lying hollow and forgotten. The violence was nothing new. It never was. But this time, she had to force herself to keep looking. Even when she felt sick to her stomach.

“-The local population have descended into violent madness, attacking one another without discrimination. Commandos, acolytes…children. It appears that no one is immune. At least within what we gauge to be about a mile radius of the Reaper. The local government sent teams into the zone, but none returned. This form of indoctrination goes beyond anything we saw during the War. It’s malicious and uncompromising.”

“And we’re just going to waltz in there?” one of the Gallipoli’s marines spoke up, the fresh-faced Lieutenant who had nodded at Ash earlier.

“Correct, Radcliffe.” Traynor nodded. “Our primary mission will be to clear the surviving civilians from the immediate vicinity. We can’t do anything to disable the Reaper while there are still innocents in the kill zone.”

“Huh, the Alliance still has scruples,” Ash mused.

“Once we’re clear, the Gallipoli will launch a salvo from orbit,” Traynor continued.

“There’s a slight problem with your plan,” Vega spoke up. “What’s to stop us from going all loco like those poor people? We walk in there, chances we’re gonna wind up exactly like them.”

Mercifully, the images of violence changed, Traynor brought up an image of standard issue Alliance helmet. It zoomed in on a small component that Ash didn’t recognise.

“Development on indoctrination blockers began during the War,” Traynor explained. “Little progress was made before the War ended and the research was shelved. My team picked it up a decade later. Basically, it broadcasts a signal that interferes with the electromagnetic field generated by the Reaper – effectively breaking it up and rendering it inert, at least for the wearer.”

“How have you had a chance to test this?” Ash asked, feeling more than a slight unease.

“The device has undergone rigorous testing in the lab,” Traynor said without qualm, as though this was supposed to offer up some form of reassurance. “I’m confident that it will perform as expected in the field.”

Ash managed to curtail the response that immediately sprang to mind, thoroughly aware of the young marines surrounding her. She nodded in response. “We’ll get the job done, ma’am.”

A flicker of surprise passed across Traynor’s face before she composed herself. "Righto, are there any further questions?"

"You're a Rear Admiral and you just said 'righto?" Vega pointed out.

Traynor diplomatically ignored the comment. "We're done then. I'll see you all back here in six hours’ time, at 0300. In the meantime, I’d advise you to rest."

Just as she was thinking of retiring to her quarters to grab a few hours of sleep, Ash copped a second elbow in the ribs from Liara. She already knew what the jab signified, but turned to deliver a baleful stare for the hell of it. Liara somehow managed to mouth the word 'apologise' and make it appear authoritative. Still able to act like a petulant teenager when the situation called for it, Ash rolled her eyes. Liara's responding glare was far more polished than Ash's. Knowing full well that it was pointless to argue the point, Ash sighed and started walking. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that there was a pleased expression on Liara’s face.

“Hey, Traynor, have you got a moment? I wanted a word with you,” Ash began.

She looked over her shoulder to where Vega and Garrus had descended into a heated debate about the merits of the old M-92 Mantis versus the newest Rosenkov model. Not to mention still being aware of Liara watching her.

Traynor caught her hesitation. "Sure. Can I invite you up to the Nest? If it were different circumstances I’d offer you a gin and tonic, but I suspect we’ll all need a clear head tomorrow."  

The captain’s quarters were much like the rest of the frigate, designed as much for comfort as performance. Ash couldn’t help but think it was because the Navy was going soft.

There were a few awkward moments of silence. The words wouldn’t come easily. From the expression on her face, Traynor was clearly wondering whether she had been right to be alone with Ash. Ash didn’t blame her.

Ash drew in a deep breath. “Traynor…Sam…I need to apologise for what I said to you after Aite. You and your crew saved my ass, and I wouldn’t even do you the courtesy of hearing you out when you were asking for my help. I’m sorry.”

Sam smiled. “Liara made you say that didn’t she?”

“Well…yes, but that’s beside the point. I wanted to say it.”

Sam visibly relaxed. “I’m really pleased you’re here, Ashley. And Liara. Despite the potential ramifications of this situation, I feel better knowing that the two of you have got my back. Between your tactical expertise and what Liara can bring to the table-”

“C’mon, Traynor, you and I both know that you don’t need my tactical expertise. I’m here as insurance. The one you really want is Liara. It’s always been about her.” Ash stopped herself by biting her lip. “Sorry. Going off again.”

“Already forgotten. And you’re selling yourself short. If things worked out the way they should have, I would be calling you Admiral Williams.”

Ash ignored the larger hole that Traynor was digging for herself. “This is the last time. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to help you on this, then I’m stowing my hardsuit – permanently. I want to be around to see as much of my kid’s childhoods as possible.”

“I’ve already missed the boat on that one,” Traynor admitted honestly.

Ash saw the shadow that fell across the Admiral’s face. She realised exactly how much Sam Traynor had sacrificed. Although the War had ended for the rest of them, it had simply changed for Traynor. Years of hard work for little reward. Now Ash was beginning to wonder whether they should have destroyed every last Reaper following the victory. Although you could never call it a victory, she thought absently. It was almost as though the conflict had ended because the Reapers had decided to stop fighting.

“Hey, can I make you a cup of tea?” Sam suggested in what sounded like an effort to cheer herself up. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Ash didn’t drink tea, but she nodded all the same. “That would be great, thanks, Sam.”

“You’ve got two right?” Sam commented as she made her way to the other side of the room. She looked back over her shoulder. “Kids I mean.”

“Yeah.” This time Ash took a seat. Unlike the hard benches on the Normandy, the chair was plush and welcomed her weary body. “Alice and Theda – Alice is twenty going on two-hundred and fifty. And Theda desperately wishes she were human. You know, I caught the scamp washing her crests with my shampoo once. She thought it would make her grow hair. Instead it gave her a rash that lasted weeks.” Ash smirked at the memory. “The joys of having asari kids.”

“Sounds challenging.” Sam was busy pouring steaming water into a couple of cups.

The chair was ridiculously comfortable. Ash finally allowed herself to sink back into it. She closed her eyes. _Just for a moment_ , she told herself. “I guess. Yes. Challenging. And Lonely.”

“Lonely?”

Ash knew she’d already said too much. She and Traynor had been friends once, but they’d never been that close. They were too different. But it felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who knew her, even a little.

“Everyone knows that Asari have defined life stages. Maiden, matron, matriarch. Mostly they’re just a collection of stereotypes to humans, but there’s truth there too.” The words flowed easily. “Asari don’t usually have children as maidens, not because they can’t but because they’re…not ready. Emotionally. Spiritually. But we both wanted to. At the time.”

“Ash?”

With her eyes closed, Ash hadn’t realised that Traynor was standing in front of her with the cup of tea. “Oh, thanks.”

She took a deep gulp. It was fragrant and tasted appalling, but she continued drinking it as Traynor took a seat opposite. Ash searched the Admiral’s face for some hint of boredom, but Traynor was alert and leaning forward to hear her continue.

“In hindsight, Liara was much too young.” Ash shook her head sadly. “She struggled to bond with Alice and Theda. Not for lack of trying at first, but between everything and her work-”

There was an awkward pause. Liara’s work would always be a sore point between them. Not to mention the lengths to which Ash had gone to rescue Liara from an Alliance prison cell.

“-her work had always taken precedence,” Ash continued quickly. “She eventually gave up trying. For a long time. For a decade I felt like a single parent…well, if you can call yourself that while being surrounded by a small army of nannies and tutors. Plus being stuck on Thessia, light years from my family. And not having my career to fall back on. Hence, lonely.”

“Well…I haven’t spoken to my kids in months and my wife left me because she thinks I care more about my work than my family. Unfortunately, she’s right-” Sam paused and took a gulp of her own drink. “-Fuck. The War was supposed to be the hard part.”

It wasn’t remotely funny, but Traynor suddenly chuckled. Lightly at first, before developing into a loud, belly laugh. It was infectious. Ash smirked, then snorted. Before she knew it, she had to set her cup down for fear of spilling her tea. It was utterly ridiculous. Nothing about the whole situation was funny. Neither their conversation, nor what they would be facing in a few hours’ time. But the laughter still came.

When Ash finally managed to get herself under control, she realised her cheeks were damp with tears.

She looked at Traynor. Their mirth was now a distant memory. “I’m sorry about everything, Sam. You have to believe that I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Traynor suddenly couldn’t meet Ash’s gaze. She stared intently at her cup instead. “You weren’t given much of a choice. I should be the one saying sorry to you.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” Ash tried to reassure her. Traynor had simply been another member of the _Normandy_ crew at the time. “Promise me there isn’t going to be another War.”

Traynor shook her head. “You know I can’t promise you that, Ash. But I’ll do everything I can to stop it happen. Everything.”

* * *

 

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Miranda couldn’t stop walking, not even to answer the question. She needed to keep marching towards her destination. If she stopped, then she’d realise what a terrible idea this was.

Was it really so terrible? Once a certain point was reached, you were supposed to introduce a new lover to your family. At least, that was what normal people did. Miranda had admitted to herself that she loved Nea. It was only right that she opened up about her relationship to the important people in her life.

And that included Jack.

_What the hell am I doing?_

“Miranda?”

A gentle tug on her elbow finally succeeded in drawing her attention. Miranda stopped and drew in a deep breath. She turned to look at Nea. Her asari lover was smiling patiently.

“I was asking whether you’re sure you want to go through with this?” Nea repeated her earlier question.

Miranda chewed at her bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Of course, it’s just that…well, Jack isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. She doesn’t exactly adhere to social conventions – manners, internal filters, a sense of propriety.”

“Because of her illness?” Nea asked gently.

“No, she’s always been an asshole,” Miranda replied quickly. “It’s who she is…who she was made-” She stopped at that point. It wasn’t the time or the place to go into the specifics of Jack’s past. And it wasn’t her story to tell. “I just wanted you to know before meeting her. So, you’re not taken aback by anything that-” 

Nea placed a gentle hand to her mouth, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You do not need to prepare me so thoroughly. Jack is your family, you love her, and that’s all I need to know.”

Miranda grinned sheepishly, feeling utterly foolish. As Nea lowered her hand, Miranda reached out and picked it up. “I just haven’t done this before, introduced someone to my family. It’s not something I’ve ever had cause to do. No one has stuck around this long.”

Nea cocked her head to one side. “Or is it because you have not allowed anyone to get this close to you?”

“What, no…fine, there’s that too,” she agreed reluctantly.

With their fingers entwined, they resumed walking up the path towards the hospital. Miranda was reflecting on how effortless the whole situation felt when another, more troubling thought, entered her mind. With her cheeks already feeling warm with embarrassment, she tugged on Nea’s hand. 

“Wait, there’s something else.”

Even Nea’s apparently infinite patience had limits. The asari rolled her eyes. “Miranda, there’s nothing else you need to say to prepare me for -”

“Jack and I…ah, had sex once,” Miranda blurted out. She winced. “Okay, twice. And Jack always gets a kick out of telling me how terrible I was in bed.”

“Well, the two of us can compare notes then,” Nea replied with a shrug. Then she winked. “Although you’re hardly terrible.”

“Hardly terrible? That’s not exactly high praise!”

Relieved at Nea’s unreserved acceptance, a laugh escaped Miranda’s throat. The walk towards the hospital became one of anticipation rather than dread. She realised that she was excited for Jack and Nea to meet, regardless of how unknown the situation was.

_You have to accept that you can’t plan out everything_ , she reminded herself. _Not when it comes to people…and definitely not when it comes to Jack._

Miranda had an appointment before her visit with Jack. She needed to catch up with Dr Maida. The human doctor had been in charge of the hospital for just a few years, but he'd quickly risen through the staff ranks due to both his brilliance and his passion. Maida knew Jack well, he’d spent almost three years as her lead doctor and he still maintained a close interest in her care. He shook Miranda’s hand warmly as she and Nea entered his office.

“Dr Lawson, a pleasure as always.”

“Please, it’s just Miranda. I’d like to introduce you to my-” In reality the hesitation was brief, but thoughts whizzed through her mind when she realised that they hadn’t actually put a label on their relationship. “-partner. Nea Skouros.”

Miranda tried to keep from wincing, hoping that it wasn’t construed as ‘business partner.’ The graceful way Nea wrapped an arm around her waist, while at the same time reaching out to shake Maida’s hand, solved that. Maida couldn’t conceal his surprise. Miranda didn’t blame him. She’d never brought anyone to the institute, not even Oriana.

“Again, a pleasure. Has Miranda offered to give you a tour of her hospital?”

“ _Her_ hospital?”

Nea turned to look at Miranda, her interest clearly piqued. Miranda couldn’t shake her head quickly enough.

Maida raised his eyebrows. He missed all the non-verbal cues that Miranda was sending out. “She hasn’t mentioned that she’s the founding benefactor of this institution? I can’t tell you how many times she has refused to let the Board rename it to the Lawson Institute.”

“And I’ll keep refusing,” Miranda replied through slightly gritted teeth, fervently wishing she’d thought to message ahead and remind the doctor to stop bringing up that little fact.

“She hasn’t mentioned,” Nea murmured politely, offering a gentle squeeze on Miranda’s waist in reassurance.  

“We’re on our way to see Jack. Of course.” Miranda changed the subject before the doctor started going into the specifics of just how much of her fortune she’d spent on the facility. “But I wanted to ask if there had been any change as a result of-”

“Of the new treatment?” Maida interrupted eagerly. He was already bouncing on his heels in anticipation. “Beyond expectations! The trials merely indicated that it would halt deterioration. It is early days yet, Dr Lawson, very early days, and I do not want to offer false hope…but there are signs that the treatment may offer a measurable improvement.”

It was Miranda’s turn for surprise. “Improvement?”

The treatment was a new process that was in the late stages of development with her company. Jack was one of the earliest test subjects, despite doctors having felt her condition was too far gone. For all the money she’d sunk into trying to cure Jack, this was the first whiff of hope. She had to stop a tremulous smile from creeping onto her face.  

“We’ve only been here for ten minutes and it’s been fascinating,” Nea couldn’t resist commenting after they had excused themselves from the doctor’s presence. “I’m really pleased you asked me to come.”

Miranda gave her partner a brief glance, catching the bemused smile on Nea’s face. She didn’t respond, preferring to battle against the way she was feeling. While Maida’s enthusiasm was infectious, Miranda couldn’t bring herself to be optimistic about this new development. Not yet. But the thought that Jack might possibly have years left ahead of her, instead of mere months, was almost too much to resist.

She rapped on Jack’s door before entering. There was a loud, almost irritated ‘come in!’. They found Jack sitting in an armchair by the window. The wallscreen was alive with movement, something fast and violent. Jack didn’t bother to switch it off as she glanced at Miranda.

“Since when did you knock, Cheerleader?” Jack went back to watching her movie. She shovelled a fistful of popcorn into her mouth and chewed energetically.

“When I’ve brought company,” Miranda replied.

Jack’s attention was piqued by the word ‘company.’ She looked towards Nea, frowned for a moment, then her eyebrows shot up in realisation.

“Holy fuck, Lawson. That is one hot piece of ass!” Jack let out a low whistle.

“Jack!” Miranda facepalmed, before turning to Nea and mouthing an apology.

Nea was too busy laughing to pay any attention to Miranda’s mortification. “Nothing like being called a ‘hot piece of ass’ to inflate the ego.” She crossed the room and held out her hand for Jack to take. “Nea Skouros. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about you, Jack Zero.”

“All bad I hope!” Jack responded. She wiped her hand on the blanket covering her legs, then pumped Nea’s hand enthusiastically.

Nea perched on the side of Jack’s bed and looked towards the wallscreen. “Don’t tell me you’re watching _Terror on Tuchanka II_? I love this film.”

“Right?” Jack nodded “It’s about to get to the part where the heroine takes down a whole squad of mercs armed with just a Predator and an omni-blade. It’s absolute carnage. Popcorn?”

“Errr, I’m still standing here?” Miranda pointed out.

Jack didn’t even glance at her this time. “So, you gonna shut up and watch the film with us? Cos if you’re not, you can bugger off.”

With a mouthful of popcorn, Nea patted the bed bedside her. Miranda looked back at the ludicrous action scene that was playing out on the wallscreen. She wondered how many brain cells she’d lost by staring at it for a relatively brief period of time. Uttering a weary sigh, she eased herself onto the bed. Nea passed her the popcorn and she helped herself to a few pieces to show willing.

As she chewed, she stared at Jack, discreetly assessing her friend. The changes would have been barely discernible to most people, but Miranda knew Jack almost as well as she knew herself. Jack’s cheeks were less hollow, her eyes were brighter. As Jack raised her arm to shovel more popcorn into her mouth, Miranda clearly saw that Jack had regained a small amount of muscle tone. Miniscule really, but it was something. Her hopes soared.

Eventually, out of curiosity, and the fact that both Jack and Nea were totally engrossed, she started watching the film. With each passing minute, her frown deepened. She could understand why Jack would be enjoying the absolute rubbish unfolding on screen – it was loud and colourful and, even Miranda was willing to admit, the lead actress was very attractive. However, Nea was cultured and brilliant. Yet she appeared to be enjoying it just as much, if not more, than Jack.

The latest set piece was too much. Miranda snorted in disbelief. “This is ridiculous! There’s no way she’d be able to make that jump, even with biotics. She’d have broken both her legs on landing.”

Jack and Nea spoke emphatically in unison. “Shut up!”

As Miranda was seething, Nea turned and patted her lightly on the knee. “Miranda, I love you, but you still need to learn to relax. There are some things you don’t need your brain for.”

“Ha!” Jack laughed. “I’ve been telling her that for twenty-five years. I like this one, Cheerleader. I approve.”

“I didn’t bring Nea here for your approval, Jack,” Miranda pointed out.

Jack smirked and shook her head. When Nea wasn’t looking, she mouthed the words, _‘Yes you did_.’


	15. The Most Palatable Way

**2186 CE**

**Vancouver, Earth**

 

How long has the Alliance held her prisoner? It might be a matter of days. Surely less than a week. 

Definitely less than a week.

Or has it been longer? 

For Liara, the days have blurred into one. It’s not a good sign. A brief time in captivity and she’s already starting to unravel. What if she does end up being held for weeks? Months? Liara doesn’t want to contemplate anything longer.

Her ‘accommodation’ is sparse but comfortable enough. It reminds her of being a student – especially the years when she’d stubbornly refused to accept money from Benezia. However, unlike her student days, she’s been well fed. Aside from the biotic dampening collar she is forced to wear around her neck and being manhandled on several occasions, she is well treated. She can almost forget that she is a prisoner. Almost, but not quite. Her small room lacks a window and the heavy door is securely locked. There’s also precious little to do – no wallscreen, no contact with the outside world of any kind. Just a stack of antique human books that are only useful for sending her to sleep. 

The lights have been dimmed – not turned off, just dimmed – indicating that it might be the night cycle. For all Liara knows, it’s the middle of the day. She’s trying to read one of the books, but the words keep blurring together. The collar around her neck is starting to chafe. It’s brutally effective. For the first few hours after the Alliance had forcibly taken her, she’d stubbornly tried to summon a mass effect field. Straining until her head felt like it was bursting. She’d then spent several hours doubled over in pain, save for bouts of vomiting. 

The whole ordeal is beyond comprehension. There has been no interrogation of any kind. No questions or demands. Liara’s instincts tell her that it is something to do with the Shadow Broker network, but her own demands for an audience with someone in charge have fallen on deaf ears. Her human contact has been limited. Usually, it is catching a glimpse of a hand as food shoved through a slot in the door. Once, yesterday…or the day before, two marines had dragged her to another room. There, she’d been secured to a chair for several hours. After expecting to be interrogated, she’d simply been returned to her room. 

Even without stimulation, Liara’s thoughts are not idle. She spends her time working purely from memory – creating lists, planning, strategising. In a darker moment, she’d meticulously plotted the total downfall of the Alliance. Stopping herself only with a reminder that innocent people that would suffer from the fallout. That and imagining what Shepard would have thought of her. 

Her thoughts often turn to Ashley. To how much she loves the human woman. The scant time they’ve been able to spend together since the War ended. Hopes for a future.

Liara lingers on the real possibility that Ash knows absolutely nothing about her situation, or even the fact that she is missing. Staying in regular communication is a luxury they haven’t been able to afford of late. A part of her hopes that is the truth. Ash is simply somewhere in Council space, doing what the Alliance has asked of her. 

She tries to concentrate on the words on the page of her book. It’s next to useless. As fascinating as they are at times, humans write exceptionally dull stories. 

Her eyelids are growing heavy when she’s startled awake by the sudden and complete absence of light. The book falls to the floor as she sits up. Moments later, there’s a dull thud beyond the door. She rises to her feet too quickly, and her legs almost give out beneath her. 

Liara hears the locking mechanism work. It’s immediately followed by a dim light, the kind mounted on a weapon. Liara sees the door opening and a figure beyond, moving quickly. Although the individual is wearing a form-fitting soft-suit, with full face mask, Liara immediately knows who it is. She knows that body as well as her own. In the torchlight, a vivid splash of glistening liquid across the front of the suit grabs her attention – red and stark against the pale grey of the suit. 

“You’re hurt?” 

Liara knows they don’t have time for questions, but the words are there anyway. Ashley shakes her head and holds out her hand. Liara’s heart skips several beats as she takes it. 

They’re moving quickly through deserted corridors, accompanied only by the light patter of their steps, signalling that no one has been alerted to a break in. Between her urgent gasps for breaths, Liara finds time to be impressed with her own rescue operation. As talented as she is, there’s no way Ash could pull this off alone. 

The mystery doesn’t remain for long. A second figure appears in the corridor ahead, urging them to hurry with a curt gesture. The helmet is form-fitted to an asari crest. It’s Aethyta. Under different circumstances, she might laugh. Her father has only ever barely tolerated Ash. Now they’re working together.

Time passes in a blur. Liara hasn’t appreciated the impact of her captivity on her body. She’s clearly suffered from the lack of activity. Despite the urgency, her stiff, aching limbs refuse to cooperate. She’s half-stumbling, half being dragged. All she can do is cling to Ashley and trust that this is about to be nothing more than a nightmare.

When they burst through a door, fresh air hits Liara like a slap to the face. She’s too busy drawing in deep gulping breaths to wonder what the plan is. She looks up instinctively but can neither see nor hear anything other than the whistle of wind. Then she picks it up. The discreet whine of a stealth shuttle. Unmistakable only because she knows it so well. Technology developed for the Broker years ago that she inherited. Of course, she won’t be able to see anything until the shuttle is right on top of them. 

Ash is propelling her forward before even see it. Then it’s there – a black hull that seems to swallow light. A door opens and she falls inside, hitting the deck hard. 

“Go, go, go!” Aethyta’s yell is punctuated by a vigorous punch to the bulkhead. 

The door slams shut and Ashley’s weight presses her against the floor as the shuttle accelerates. Liara squeezes her eyes shut. With each passing second, she expects her world to suddenly erupt in flame and fury as something shoots them out of the sky. 

There’s nothing, except the quiet whine of the engine. 

Moments later, she’s hauled into a seat. Ash is kneeling in front of her, deftly fastening the harness securely around her body. There’s no tenderness to the touch, just purpose. 

Once finished, Ash stands and turns around. “Can someone hurry up and get this damn collar off her neck?”  

Liara hadn’t even noticed the other two asari in the shuttle. She knows them, although not well. Old commando friends of her father’s. The pair block her view, faces close as they wield precision instruments to work on the collar. Liara is straining to look at Ashley. Her bondmate rips off her helmet to reveal an ashen face, slick with sweat. The blood on the front of her suit is still wet. 

Ashley’s attention is focused on Aethyta. “What the hell was that?” 

Aethyta removes her own helmet – she’s completely calm. nonchalantly hanging onto a rail. “That was a bloody success. Give yourself a pat on the back, Williams. Clearly you’re not as useless as I thought you were.” 

“You went off book!” Ash’s voice is loud and harsh inside the shuttle’s confines. 

“I did what I had to do to get her out.” 

“You didn’t have to kill that soldier!”

“She pointed a gun in my face.” 

“She was just doing her job.” 

“A little too well if you ask me,” Aethyta quipped. “Look, in hindsight I could have used non-lethal force, but I did what I had to do at the time. I wasn’t going to risk one jumped up little soldier-girl ruining everything. This was our one shot, Williams. If we’d fucked this up, then our girl would still been stuck in that hole with that bloody collar around her neck. C’mon, get that fucking thing off her.”

Almost on cue, something within the collar clicks and its unyielding surface is gone. Liara’s hands immediately go to her neck, gingerly probing at the raw skin. Even more tentatively, she tries to reach out to embrace the dark energy within her body. Even without flaring, she can feel it there, humming with potential. She is whole again. 

“Hey kid.” Aethyta crouches in front of her, eyes narrow with anger whilst scanning her for injuries. “Did those klixen-spawn hurt you? If they did, by Athame’s ass I’m going to go back in there and kill a couple more.” 

Liara shakes her head as vigorously as she can. _No._ She doesn’t want any more people killed on her account. But that collar. Just wearing it had made her feel helpless and violated. She wants to say yes. Deep down, she wants to make them all hurt. _  
_

Aethyta cups her cheek with a gentle touch. It’s a rare public display of affection from her father, but Liara is already looking elsewhere. The person she most wants to see – needs to see – isn’t even looking at her. Ash faces the bulkhead, forehead pressed against her forearm. Liara doesn’t need to see her lover’s expression to know what she is thinking. Ash is asking herself if the successful rescue was worth a soldier’s death. Whether it was worth losing her career. 

Liara’s eyes burn in response. Her breath is stuck in her throat. 

_Yes_. 

_Yes._

It’s only when Ash finally turns around -  finally _sees_ her – that Liara is able to draw a breath. There’s a gulp. Then a half-sob that she swallows abruptly. Then her lover is back kneeling in front of her. Liara ignores the blatant panic in Ash’s eyes. There will be time to address that later. Maybe. Ash presses their foreheads together, breath mingling in a desperate but brief kiss. 

“I’m sorry,” Liara hears herself say, as if the whole thing is her fault. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

She’s still repeating the words when Ashley kisses her again. Silences her. Silences them both. For a moment at least, Liara can lose herself in something other than the desire for revenge. 

* * *

**2208 CE**

**SSV _Gallipoli,_ Lusia approach**

The atmosphere in Gallipoli’s armoury hummed with a nervous energy. There were a few jokes – mostly Vega trying to earn a rise out of Garrus – but for the most part the sounds were occupational. The quiet scraping of skin against fabric, the dull tap of ceramic plating, straps being tightened, and the occasional whirr of micro servos as a weapon was double-checked. 

Having spent too much time in much smaller frigates, Ash was unaccustomed to _Gallipoli’s_ spacious surrounds. Being able to gear up without banging elbows or stepping on someone’s foot was a novelty. 

She tightened the straps on her gauntlets and flexed her arms experimentally. The suit was straight out of the box. The one she’d been wearing on Aite had been completely unsalvageable.  True to form, Liara had ensured that the replacement was advanced tech, far beyond military grade spec. It fit her like a second skin. Only its tell-tale shininess and factory fresh scent ruined the illusion of the veteran.

Once done, she cast her eye across to Liara. Her bondmate was still awkwardly strapping herself into her chestplate. Ash crossed to Liara’s side and wordlessly took over. Several moments passed in silence as Ash’s fingers worked deftly over the straps.

“No snide comments?” Liara murmured eventually. 

“About what?” Ash had moved onto the shoulder plates. 

“How desperately out of practice I am.” 

The thought honestly hadn’t crossed Ash’s mind. Now that she was thinking about it, Ash couldn’t remember the last time she’d suited up alongside Liara.

“Erinle,” Liara replied, clearly sensing what Ash was thinking. “Almost eight years ago.” 

Ash remembered. It had been a relative cake walk, but she’d spent the whole op paranoid that something would go wrong, something unexpected. They’d both end up dead, leaving Alice and Theda without their parents. From that point on, she’d found excuses to keep Liara behind the monitors. Eventually, it came to the point where Liara couldn’t spare the time and it had become a moot point. 

The old anxiety reared its ugly head. This wouldn’t be a cake walk. But she knew neither of them would back out of this fight. 

“You should stay on board the Gallipoli,” Ash felt rotten for even making the suggestion, but she had to try. “Surely they could use your tactical expertise on the CIC?” 

Liara gave Ash the appropriate response. A baleful glare. The she returned to tightening her greaves. 

Ash sighed. “I guess there’s no other way.” 

“No, this is merely the most palatable,” Liara replied calmly. 

“What else would you have us do? It’s not like we could realistically bombard the site from orbit.” Ash paused, remembered who she was speaking to. “You would…wouldn’t you? That’s exactly what you’d have done.” 

Liara straightened, her expression a mask of calm. Ashley knew the answer before it left her bondmate’s lips, but even that didn’t prepare her for the shock of actually hearing it. 

“I ran the calculations and…yes. It would have been the most efficient way to resolve the situation. The Alliance had my evidence when they made their decision to send a team in.” Liara shrugged, as though that was the end of the conversation. 

Ash was forced to look away, at least until she could remind herself that she knew exactly who she was in a relationship with. She’d always known, but conveniently chose to forget. Times like this brought Liara’s true nature back to the forefront. 

“Ash…” Gentle fingers brushed against the back of her neck, lingering in the narrow patch of skin between her suit and her hair line. “You know as well as I do that brokerage can be a numbers game. Buyers want all of the available data to inform the correct decision. It has nothing to do with how I personally feel about a situation.” 

All too often, the way that Liara personally felt about a situation was buried beneath layers so thick that even Ash couldn’t pry beneath. Yet for all the power she held, Liara was still one individual. Ash knew that individual, knew her hopes, her loves…and her fears. She knew that, almost more than anything, Liara feared losing that power. Of course, it could be given up willingly. However, to have it taken from her was another matter altogether. 

In the weeks and months that had followed her being held prisoner by the Alliance, Liara had struggled to reconcile her own personal feelings with the desire for revenge. On one hand, she would not have dreamed of violent retribution, yet on the other it was well within her power to do significant damage. In the end, Liara had simply done nothing. This had been reconciled with the fact that had she done anything, it would have been too terrible to forgive herself for.

Now, decades later, she was in the heart of that very organisation. They both were. For all the challenges that Ash herself faced in coming face to face with her past, she had not acknowledged that Liara was struggling with similar sentiments. In the end, they were both there because they had always recognised that there were things bigger than themselves. Regardless of personal feelings. 

Ash offered up a curt nod in response. “I know.” She then met her bondmate’s gaze. Her voice was almost a whisper as she continued, “Just promise me something? When we’re down there, you’ll remember that you’re Liara T’Soni. Not the omnipotent Broker. You’re very much flesh and blood. My flesh and blood.”

With some obvious relief in her expression, Liara nodded. “I promise.”

“Hey, Williams!” Vega’s strident voice interrupted the quiet moment. He was fully suited up, only his head bare. His boots hit the desk loudly with each step. “You wanna flip for point duty?”

“No way, Vega,” Ash replied as she shouldered her rifle. “Beauty before brawn every time.”

Vega frowned. “So, you want point?” 

Ash smirked. A part of her felt that it was good to be back. “No way, cabron. You’re the beauty in this chicken shit outfit.”

* * *

**Nevos, Teyolia System  
**

Wearing only a gossamer thin robe that could barely be considered clothing, Miranda stood at the window sipping from a glass of water. Dawn was still some time away, but sleep was far from her mind. Insomnia had been a constant for as long as she could remember. In the distant past, her father had dismissed sleep as an enemy of productivity. Before Nea, she’d never allowed herself to discover the joys of lingering in a warm bed – either alone or with a partner. She found it hard to switch off from her obligations. 

“There you are,” a sleepy voice announced from the shadows. “Can’t sleep?” 

After listening to the sound of bare feet padding across the floor for a few moments, Miranda felt a hand slide around her waist. Having clearly just emerged from bed, Nea’s skin was warm against her own. Miranda realised that she had lost herself in her thoughts to the point where she didn’t know how long she had been standing by the window. She gratefully sank back into the warmth, even as Nea shivered slightly. 

“Goddess! Am I really that awful to sleep next to that you’d rather stand here freezing your tits off? Granted, there was that one time you said I was snoring like an elephant, but I don’t know what an elephant is, so it hardly counts.”

An unconscious smile tugged at Miranda’s lips. She turned her head, so her lips could meet Nea’s cheek. This was one of those moments where she had to question her own intelligence. How could she ever have thought that building so many barriers around her personal life was a good thing? Not when this felt so right. 

The warm flush of happiness was suddenly interrupted by an intrusive thought – as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her.

Would it have felt this right with Shepard?

Miranda banished that thought quickly, burying it deep with the others of its ilk. She tried to reclaim that warm, content feeling even as the thoughts clamoured to resurface.

“I didn’t expect to wake you,” she finally offered up. Even before it left her lips she knew it was a pathetic explanation, but it was preferable to launching into the truth. “You usually sleep like the dead.”

“You didn’t wake me. The culprit was that half a bottle of Thessian Red I drank last night. And I wanted a cuddle when I returned to bed.” 

Miranda laughed at the sulky tone in Nea’s voice. It helped to banish the lingering demons. Leaving only a sense of safety and trust. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to oblige, but to be honest with you-” she paused to draw in a breath “-I haven’t been sleeping well. Not for some time.” 

Nea sighed in resignation. “Because you’ve had to put up with someone else in your bed?” 

“No. If anything, you’re the sole reason that I get any sleep at all.” 

Their lovemaking – regardless of whether it was energetic or slow and languorous – always sent her into a deep sleep. It was what came after that drove her back to wakefulness. Miranda closed her eyes, clearly seeing the nightmare that most often woke her. The endless rows of tanks, her own eyes staring out at her. Tank after tank of clones. All serving to remind her exactly what she was. A thing that had been _engineered_ as opposed to being born. Just one of many.

Her silence obviously worried Nea. Gently her lover spun her around, so they were standing face to face. Miranda opened her eyes as Nea reached up to cup her cold cheeks. Miranda suspected that it was frustrating for Nea to have to resort to analysing verbal cues and expressions as opposed to simply melding. A meld would reveal everything, even the memories that Miranda wanted to keep buried.

“Tell me?” Nea probed gently. 

Avoidance was Miranda’s immediate thought. She could resort to humour or, better yet, to lust. A simple kiss would effortlessly lead to more pleasant endeavours. And Nea was already a naked distraction. 

Miranda kept her gaze on Nea’s face. “I’ve always sleep well, but of late – the past four or five months – I’ve been having vivid dreams, often of the same thing. Seemingly endless rows of tanks, stretching high above me, each one containing an unconscious human form. When I draw closer, I realise that they’re all me. Their eyes open and they’re all staring at me. When I dreamt tonight, I saw them banging their fists against the glass of their tanks, mouths open in soundless screams. It’s ridiculous.”

Nea gently touched her hair, smoothing it back. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about you, Miranda Lawson, it’s that nothing you do is ridiculous. The dream obviously means something, we just need to figure out what." 

A sigh accompanied a gentle shake of her head. “I don’t think there’s any hidden meaning here. I was literally grown in a tank.” 

A frown marred Nea’s flawless forehead. “While I’m not an expert, I do know that isn’t how human children are conceived.”

Everything – the dream, Nea’s confusion, Miranda’s own fears – bubbled to the surface. She extricated herself from Nea’s gentle grip and fled. At least as far as the sofa, where she sat heavily and fixed her gaze on a lone plant sitting on the coffee table. An unobtrusive little thing that Miranda had picked simply because it required very little attention. She didn’t even know where it was from. Nea’s approaching footsteps interrupted her concentration. Thankfully, the asari made no move to touch her. Nea simply perched at the opposite end of the sofa. Waiting expectantly for an explanation that Miranda did not want to give. 

“You may have noticed that the only family I talk about are Oriana and Aaron.”

“I just assumed your parents had passed away,” Nea replied quietly. 

“My father, yes. Because I killed him. I never had a mother.” 

Nea cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well…that is a lot to process for one sentence.” 

“My father…was, for lack of a better word, a monster. He believed that he could control everything – including his own offspring. He designed and created me to be his perfect heir. At every step he tried to mould me into his own image, but I was never good enough, never perfect enough. I later learned that I wasn’t even the first…just the first he’d kept. And I wasn’t the last. When it became clear to him that he couldn’t control me, he simply made another daughter.” 

“Oriana?” 

Miranda nodded. “I was seventeen when I made my escape. I took Oriana and ran. It’s why I decided to join Cerberus, they had the resources to protect both me and my sister. And, in turn, my father had bestowed me with the gifts to make me an invaluable asset.” Miranda paused, unsure whether her pithy explanation make any sense. “I-I am sorry, for lack of a better word. I keep giving you glimpses of who I am, each one more awful than the last.”

Silence descended for almost a minute. Their first date aside, prior silences had never been awkward. This time, Miranda had to resist the urge to cast a nervous glance across the sofa. Resisting that urge, she sat stubbornly staring at her little plant. Making up her mind to learn what kind of plant it was and to buy more plants. Anything to take her mind off the present. 

When Nea finally spoke, it was merely a quiet observation. “I have never met anyone more courageous.”

Surprised, Miranda turned to find Nea’s cheeks damp with tears. “It was merely self-preservation.” 

Nea scooted across the sofa and laid a hand on Miranda’s thigh. “You saved your own life, and your sister’s. And carved out a path for yourself. Where you came from isn’t as important as the beautiful, strong woman you are sitting in front of me right now.” 

A tentative smile tugged at Miranda’s lips. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, my love,” Nea teased, before her expression became serious once more. She pressed her fingers to Miranda’s temple. “Though I believe I could help you. If you will let me?”

Miranda reached up and took Nea’s hand in her own. She kissed Nea’s fingers, then held them tightly. It was a gentle ‘no.’. Even with the promise of relieving her nightmares, she wasn’t ready for the intrusion. Not yet. 

Nea nodded in understanding. “Again, forgive my presumption, but if I might suggest something else that might help? A change of scenery. Come to Thessia with me?” 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“A break from Nevos. From your work. And, I know how much she means to you, but break from Jack.”

Miranda bristled. “I don’t need a break from Jack!”

She regretted her outburst almost immediately, even more so when Nea’s patient expression didn’t change. Almost seven years. That’s how long it had been since she’d had a ‘break’ from Jack. 

“Just for a week or two,” Nea continued. “Perhaps longer if Lawson Dynamics can spare you. But I think it would help.”

It was something that Oriana had been trying to do for years. Now Nea had boldly strolled into her life and thrown her carefully ordered routine into complete chaos. What Nea was now suggesting sounded suspiciously like a holiday. And she didn’t _do_ holidays. But Nea was sitting in front of her, still very much naked, waiting expectantly.

Miranda suddenly both hopeful and terribly guilty at the same time. She desperately wanted a change of scenery. And yet, as always, the thought of leaving Jack was unconscionable.

There was only one answer she could offer.

“I’ll think about it.”


	16. Pre-Drop Rituals

**2189 CE**

**Jon Grissom Academy, Vetus System**

On the surface, Grissom Academy does not carry any scars from the Cerberus attack over three years earlier. It does not mean that there are none. They’re hidden by the pristine surfaces – too new to carry any signs of wear. No doubt they’re also in the memories of the survivors – if any chose to come back to Grissom.

As Miranda walks down a corridor, heels clicking on the tiles, she casts her eye over a nearby atrium on the other side of broad windows. It’s aesthetically pleasing with a generous amount of open space and greenery. It could be mistaken for an affluent corporate space station before the War.

Moments later, a biotiball smacks into the window. The illusion shatters.

The residents of Grissom aren’t corporate employees. They are very much teenagers. Laughing, running, talking in loud voices as only teenagers can. Although they’re old enough to remember the War, they have short memories. It’s easy to forget when you have your whole life to look forward to.

There’s a group walking towards her down the corridor. Miranda steps to one side, but a young woman is too intent on talking animatedly to her friend. Before they can collide, Miranda reaches out to stop the student with a gentle touch to the shoulder. The student looks up, red-faced and embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am!” she blurts.

“I’m not a teacher, you don’t have to call me ‘ma’am.’ And it’s fine, no harm done,” Miranda replies quickly, meeting the student’s gaze with what she hopes is a kind smile. Dealing with teenagers isn’t in her repertoire of skills.  

The student offers up a shy smile of her own, clearly unable to stop staring. Even when she steps aside to let Miranda pass, the young woman is oblivious to her friends calling to her.

“Adele! Hey, are you coming or what?”

Adele flushes with embarrassment when she snaps out of her trance. With one last glance, she breaks into a run to join the other students. The group has barely moved away from Miranda when Adele starts talking to the others in an excited voice. The resulting chorus of whispers and exclamations are easily audible. The student’s voices follow Miranda down the corridor.

“That’s Miranda Lawson!”

“As in _the_ Miranda Lawson?”

“Which other Miranda Lawson would I be talking about!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Did you _see_ her? It’s her!”

“No shit!”

“I bet she’s going to be a guest lecturer. She used to serve on the _Normandy_ with Jack after all.”

“Better hope not. She’s even more stunning in person than she is in the vids. No one would pay any attention to the class!”

The voices finally fade out of earshot. In all honesty, Miranda is unused to the hero worship. Since the War ended, she has spent most of her time engaged in vital research and development on Earth – lending her expertise wherever and whenever she can. Working feverishly long hours, she stays out of the spotlight. The fact that she isn’t military makes things easier. She owes the Systems Alliance nothing.

What the SA did to Ashley Williams is further justification of that. The media storm surrounding William’s fall from decorated soldier to wanted fugitive took months to die down. Even after Ashley’s animosity towards her, Miranda doesn’t blame the woman for anything. Still, there will never be any love lost between them. The woman is a narrow-minded cunt. Miranda misses Liara though. The one _Normandy_ crew-member whose friendship she welcomed. Even needed.

She could have stayed in touch with the rest of the Normandy family, but instead she spent her precious free time with Oriana. Relishing the opportunity to finally get to know her and cherishing ever moment.  

These days, Oriana has a husband who dotes on her. An ex-marine and a genuinely good guy. There’s no need for an older sister hanging around all the time. They still see each other and talk, but its less frequent. Miranda has simply increased her workload, solving the problem of what to do with her time.   

There’s one other person who is worth her valuable time. However, Jack is predictably terrible at keeping in touch.

Their relationship has never been conventional. Together they moved from absolute loathing, straight past friendship and onto something that now defies explanation. Miranda has known for some time that she loves Jack. She doesn’t know how Jack feels. Jack wouldn’t tell her even if she asked. But life needs to move on, so she has come to Grissom looking for answers.

An administrator informs her that Jack is in the middle of a class. Knowing full well that it will piss Jack off, she goes to observe, slipping into the back of the small lecture theatre. She catches Jack in full swing, demonstrating efficiency of movement. It’s a practical demonstration of course. Scorch marks on the walls of the room indicate that Jack has little regard for health and safety. There’s nothing on the electronic board behind Jack except an animated doodle of a hanar with a pistol. Miranda recognises it as some idiotic pre-war film character whose name she can’t remember. Or never knew in the first place.

Jack stops mid-flow when she sees Miranda for the first time. Surprise is clearly written on her face. A few dozen faces turn to stare at her in unison. There’s a brief scowl before Jack continues, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

It’s only upon seeing that her students are distracted and starting to whisper, Jack snaps her fingers. “Eyes front, assholes, unless you want to find yourselves spending your free time cleaning the head.”

The remainder of the lesson is engaging. Miranda has always suspected that Jack downplayed her teaching abilities. It makes her wonder what kind of woman Jack would have become had Cerberus not stolen her life from her. The old guilt resurfaces. Miranda has never lied to Jack. She honestly had no knowledge of Cerberus’ work on Pragia. Yet she still tortures herself with ‘what ifs.’ If only she’d somehow found out about Cerberus’ experiments on biotic children. She likes to think that she would have found a way to stop the experiments - a way to save Jack. But wishful thinking counts for nothing.

She’s still lost in thought when students start filtering past her. They’re staring and whispering. The lesson has ended. Jack mulls around at the front of the class. Tidying things that don’t need to be tidied. She makes Miranda wait for almost ten minutes before she climbs the stairs, hands jammed into her pockets.

Now up a little closer, Miranda sees that Jack hasn’t changed much over the past few years. The godawful hairstyle is still there. She’s more decently covered than usual, wearing loose-fitting trousers and a tank top.

“Sorry for distracting your students,” Miranda offers. “I wanted to see you in action.”

“You’ve seen me in action more than most, Cheerleader.” There’s a twinkle in Jack’s eye.

“I meant-”

“Yeah, I know what you meant.”

“You’re very good, you know.”

“I don’t need you to swan in here and tell me how good I am at doing my job. I know I’m the shit.” Jack’s words say one thing, but Miranda sees her bouncing on her heels, pleased as punch.

Miranda can’t contain a smile. “It’s good to see you, Jack.”

“Likewise.” It’s sincere enough. “Shit, I guess I should invite you somewhere. You wanna grab something to eat in the cafeteria? Or head back to my quarters?”

The idea of eating a meal amidst students whispering and staring isn’t high on Miranda’s list of ideal situations. She chooses the latter.

Jack’s quarters are predictably small, hidden away in the bowels of the station. No windows. Several exits. Just like Jack’s old hidey-hole on the _Normandy_.

Jack sweeps a stack of datapads from the sole couch to give Miranda somewhere to sit while she perches on her desk. There are a few minutes of silence. It’s never awkward. That’s another thing their relationship skipped. The only sound is Jack’s heel tapping against the side of her desk as she swings her leg.

“So, you wanna do chit-chat, Cheerleader? Or do you want to get straight to the point?”

Social niceties will never be Jack’s strong suit.

Miranda tries anyway. “How are you?”

“Fine. And you look fine.” Jack shrugs dismissively. “So, there’s no need for chit-chat. Why are you here?”

“I’m here because…” Miranda suddenly feels nervous. “I wanted to tell you in person that I’m leaving Earth. At least, I’m planning on leaving Earth…to relocate to Nevos. It’s an asari world, still only a couple of jumps away, but it’s further from here than Sol.”

“Cool.” Jack shrugs, seemingly nonchalant. “Why?”

“I feel as though I have given enough to the Alliance. I want to start my own R and D company. But the thought of setting it up on Earth…well, let’s just say that the Lawson name still attracts more attention than I would like.”

“No clue why,” Jack mutters in response.

So far Jack appears unperturbed by her announcement. Miranda wonders whether she’s wasted her time coming to Grissom. What she was thinking by coming in the first place?

“But it’s not a done deal. Not yet. I can still stay.”

Jack frowns. “Why the fuck would you stay?”

The breath that Miranda draws in is tremulous. Her palms are sweating for some strange reason. It shouldn’t be like this. It’s just Jack. She rises to her feet and crosses the short distance between them, footsteps hesitant. Jack watches each step like a hawk. There’s a deep frown across her brow at first. Then, as Miranda draws closer, Jack’s lips part in anticipation.

Miranda only stops when they’re toe to toe. Her movements are slow and deliberate, giving Jack all the time in the world to stop her, as reaches up to cup Jack’s face.

“Because of this.”

The kiss she initiates is hesitant. Her lips tremble as they meet Jack’s in a soft caress. There’s an unmistakable rush of air from Jack’s mouth. It’s a sigh. Whether it’s a sigh of longing or resignation, Miranda doesn’t care. The kiss intensifies as she wraps one arm around Jack’s body. Her fingertips graze against the buzzed hair on the side of Jack’s head.

It’s not like it was the last time. Miranda doesn’t try to give anything in return.

Instead she’s compliant. She knows that they both need this. Jack needs to have control while she surrenders.

Although everything about Jack’s movements is urgent, she doesn’t leave anything out. Taking the time to peel Miranda’s layers of clothing away from her body, paying attention to each and every newly bared patch of skin. Especially her tits. Miranda is already wet, but when Jack’s tongue flicks across one of her nipples, she feels an agonising wave of desire. She wants Jack to feel it too. To feel just how much she wants this. Taking one of Jack’s hands in her own, she drags it down between them, guides Jack beneath her trousers and between her legs. Jack murmurs in surprise when she finds Miranda’s core already wet and inviting.

“Please, Jack?”

“Please what?”

Miranda doesn’t think her request needs further explanation, but she realises Jack wants to hear it.

“Fuck me.” She can hear the timidity in her voice. She hopes Jack can’t.

Jack takes the request literally. There’s no attempt to move to the bed on the far side of the room, just urgent motions as the remainder of Miranda’s clothes are stripped from her body. Once naked, Jack forces her back onto the desk. Something is digging into one of her buttock cheeks, but she doesn’t care enough to stop what they’re doing. And eventually the sensation is forgotten altogether. 

With a jerk, Jack pulls her ass closer to the edge of the desk. A groan is ripped from the back of her throat as Jack enters her. Two fingers are quickly buried inside her to the knuckle. It’s not enough. Miranda thrusts her hips forward insistently. Jack doesn’t need to be asked twice. A third finger fills her cunt. She moans into Jack’s mouth.

Jack’s weight is suddenly gone from her body. Moments later, she feels the delicious warmth of a tongue gliding against her clit. She wants to prop herself up on her elbows to watch the things that Jack is doing between her legs, but the attempt is half-hearted. She settles for feeling. For feeling the way Jack’s fingers thrust inside her. The way Jack’s tongue and lips work on her folds and her painfully swollen clit. Her own fingers, one pressing against Jack’s head, the others gripping the edge of the desk. And listening to the delicious sounds of fucking and being fucked. Her own heavy breathing mingled with Jack’s fingers slapping against her flesh. The sound the desk makes as it rocks slightly beneath her bucking hips. Then there’s the smell of her lust. It’s thick and cloying, even from her vantage point. She imagines what it must be like for Jack.

This time around, she’s not embarrassed by how quickly Jack’s ministrations drive her to orgasm. She revels in it. In the knowledge that she can surrender to pleasure. That she is capable of giving herself to another person.

Even if it isn’t Shepard.

“Jack” She says the other woman’s name. It’s Jack, not Shepard. Jack, whom she used to hate with all the intensity she could muster. A woman who hated her even more in return. “Please, Jack.”

Miranda isn’t trying to count the number of times she says the other woman’s name, but she knows it’s a lot. Each time sounds more desperate than the last, until finally Jack’s tongue and fingers fulfil their purpose. She falls into the orgasm, letting it wash over her in dark, heavy waves. Her body is left to its mercies.

As it subsides, she gradually becomes aware of the sensations she’d forgotten. The unknown object digging into her flesh. Sweat gathering between her body and the desk. Miranda opens her eyes and re-orientates herself. She can sense rather than feel that Jack is close at hand.

Her arms tremble as she pushes herself up until she is sitting on the edge of the desk. Sitting in front of Jack. The other woman’s expression is difficult to read. Miranda reaches out, slides a hand around Jack’s waist and drags her forward. They’re kissing again. This time, there’s a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Miranda tastes herself on Jack’s lips.

They stop to draw in quiet breaths whilst remaining close. Miranda can almost hear Jack thinking. The nerves that she felt earlier return.

Jack needs answers. “What do you want from me?”

“Ask me to stay, Jack,” Miranda whispers against Jack’s ear. “I will.”

She feels Jack’s body tense in her arms. Moments later, Jack pulls away. The intimacy is gone.

“You should go, Cheerleader.” Jack drags a hand against her hair, smoothing down errant strands that Miranda mussed during their fucking. “Don’t let anything hold you back. Especially not me.” 

Miranda shook her head. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hold me back. But it’s not like that. I want to know if it might work between us. Don’t you?”

“Nope, not particularly,” Jack replies almost flippantly. 

Miranda is crushed. “Why?” 

Jack’s expression contorts slightly. It’s clearly difficult for her to express what she’s feeling.  Her explanation comes out in staccato bursts. “You’re hot. I like you. I like fucking you. But this-” Jack gestures back and forth between them. “Isn’t something I want. Don’t wanna wake up in the morning to see your face. Reminding me what Cerberus did to me.” 

It’s more than clear enough. Miranda should have known that she can’t outrun her past. Especially not when it comes to Jack. As she slides off the desk, she shivers slightly. The sweat has dried on her skin to the point where she feels chilled to the bone. 

Jack is gathering up her clothes, handing them to her one by one as she dresses. The expression on Jack’s face might be regret, but Miranda doesn’t spend enough time staring to find out. She knows that if she does that, she’ll give into the burning she feels behind her eyes. She’s not going to cry in front of Jack. Not over something like this. 

Once dressed, there’s no reason for her to linger. Jack is standing with her hands jammed in her pockets again, clearly not interested in a goodbye hug. 

Miranda pauses by the door. She can’t help but wonder if she should have tried harder. “Say you’ll visit me? Please?” 

“Sure.” Jack replies with a shrug.

They both know she won’t.

* * *

**2208 CE**

**Lusia, Tomaros System**

There was a distinct familiarity to be found whilst sitting shoulder to shoulder with marines, each one going through their own pre-drop rituals. A murmured prayer for those so inclined, the obsessive checking of weapons and gear. Ash had always found the jokers amongst the unit to be the loudest. Vega was no exception. Although in his case the humour concealed a wisdom found only through decades of experience. The younger faces in the shuttle looked to him with barely disguised reverence.

Expectant glances were also cast in her direction, but Ash wasn’t interested in playing the part of the veteran. Instead she checked her weapon again, servos extending with a well-tuned whirr. She popped out the clip, confirming for about the tenth time that it was a stun cartridge as opposed to an actual ammo block. Around her, others were doing the same, even though the clips had already been certified by the Gallipoli’s armoury officer.

_{We’re two minutes out, Major!}_

“Listen up, people!” Vega had planted himself in the middle of the shuttle, catching the eye of each marine under his command. “You all know what we’re going to find down there. Remember your training, watch out for your squadmates, and keep your helmets on at all times. We’re going to be saving lives down there, not losing any.”

Ash didn’t join in on the chorus of ‘ooh-rahs’, but there was no denying that she felt like she belonged. It wasn’t too dissimilar from life aboard the Black Widow. Although of course the Widow lacked the regimentation of the Alliance and she knew only a handful of the troops in the shuttle. Still, those she did know – Liara, Garrus and Vega – she’d follow to hell and back.

_{One minute to the LZ!}_

Ash felt her heartbeat quicken in response to the pilot’s voice in her headset, fear mingled with excitement. She turned to share one last look with Liara. Nothing was actually spoken, but volumes were said in a matter of seconds.

Well aware of the eyes on her, Ash stood and made her way to the door. Vega was already there, activating the opening mechanism.

The door opened to reveal a scene that was both foreign and all too familiar. Devastation. Chaos. The acrid smell of smoke in the air.

“You changed your mind? You want point?” Vega was grinning whilst laying down the challenge.  

Ash heard a roar in her ears, loud and insistent. Much of Vega’s challenge was unspoken. His was the Alliance career that Ash might have had in another lifetime. The kind of career she might have wished for herself. Vega had not chosen the easy route. The route which would have seen him rise through the ranks, safe behind a desk. He’d eschewed that to continue pursuing the kind of challenge only found on the battleground. The question was whether her two decades spent running Black Ops for the Shadow Broker meant that she could still keep up with the best the Alliance had to offer. There would have been a time when she had no doubt. Now she could feel the weight of her experiences settled on her shoulders. Not to mention the impact that her line of work had had on her body. In an age where most people could reasonably expect to live for a century and a half, Ash often thought she was living on borrowed time.       

When the time eventually came, and the shuttle hovered a few scant feet above the LZ so they could disembark, no one was keeping tabs on whose boots hit the ground first. Instincts and years of experience kicked in. They were here to do a job, not prove who was the biggest and baddest asshole on the field. 

Although elements of the chaos had been visible from above, it did not prepare them thoroughly for the devastation at ground level. Ash was instantly taken back to her memories of Thessia at the height of the War. It had been one of the bleakest campaigns she’d ever fought in. Not to mention the biggest setback Shepard had faced during her quest to stop the Reapers. Ash could still remember the ashen taste of defeat lingering in her mouth as she stood with the bodies of the dead asari littering the ground at her feet. She could still see the despair on the faces of her squadmates – none more so than Liara and Shepard. Ash had found herself without words to console either her lover or her best friend. She’d simply held Liara as she wept and watched as Shepard had wandered away into the ruins by herself. 

Thessia had been the point at which everything hung on a knife edge. Yet that time, along with so many others, they’d managed to pull it back from the brink. Traynor’s gumption and brilliance in tracking Kai Leng to Horizon had given them another shot. If there was one thing Shepard did well, it was surround herself with the kind of people who could get the job done. 

Ash felt a distinct certainty that they would also get this job done. 

Their small force split into squads, fanning out from the shuttle. Although it was approaching midday, the LZ was cast entirely in shadow with the Reaper’s bulk blocking the sunlight. Ash didn’t glance up. She’d seen enough Reapers up close, she didn’t need to look at another.  Ash could neither see nor hear Liara, but she knew that her bondmate was nearby. The feeling was both reassuring and disquieting, but she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. The last thing Liara needed in combat was a babysitter. The third member of their squad was one of Gallipoli’s marines – a fresh-faced young private named Hoonjan. He was somewhere off to her right. She could hear his bootfalls – soft but still audible.

Ash kept her attention focussed on her surrounds. As with the nightmare of Thessia, she was again faced with the bodies of dead asari at her feet. Most did not even require a scan to confirm that they were dead, but the readings flashed up on her HUD nevertheless. 

_{Deceased…Deceased…Deceased}_

A litany of lives cut short. Being a witness to death for so long hadn’t made her immune, nor had it made it any easier, but she was adept at masking her response. 

The whole scene was eerily quiet. So far, there was no sign of life and very little movement save for debris caught in a slight breeze, and the waft of smoke from the remnants burnt out fires.

The three of them moved out into a small plaza, hugging whatever cover they could find as they moved around the outskirts. Ash caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but it was just Liara moving in the shadows – dark armour almost rendering her invisible. As Ash moved, a small flash of blue near her feet caught her attention. Ash glanced down. At the same moment that her HUD flashed ‘deceased’, she saw a small blue fist. The fingers clenched even in death. Mercifully, the rest of the body was buried by rubble. Ash had difficulty tearing her gaze away. Her thoughts flashed to a memory of Theda’s chubby little fingers playing with her hair. Strands of her dark tresses were wrapped around blue fingers – wide blue eyes staring enviously. 

_{Ash? Is anything wrong?}_ Liara’s voice is the reminder she needs to tear her gaze away. 

“No, it’s nothing,” Ash replied, her voice hollow as she finally dragged her gaze away from the lifeless fingers. “There’s nothing here. No one.” 

_{Our scans showed clear life signs,}_ Liara responded. _{There are survivors here somewhere.}_

Her bondmate’s voice was also devoid of emotion, but Ash knew that Liara would be struggling. The Broker was all too often a witness to death on a colossal scale, but it was also at a distance. Divorced from the reality of it all. Ash again regretted that she had not made more of an effort to get Liara to stay on the Gallipoli. 

_You’re not her protector,_ she needed to remind herself. 

Perhaps in a way, it was what needed to happen. Liara had spent so long orchestrating events from a distance, that she needed to remember what it was like on the ground. It was a stupid thought, quickly banished. No one needed to be reminded of suffering, and Liara knew more of it than most. 

There was a burst of chatter from Vega’s squad a few hundred metres from their position, no survivors, just more bodies. Pressing through a narrow street leading away from the plaza, Ash found herself on a rubble lined residential street. The facades of the habitats almost looked as though they had been shorn away. Ash immediately recognised the work of a Reaper cannon. That was new. At each of the other sites, the Reapers themselves hadn’t attacked beyond their initial careless landings. Or in the instance on Aite, uncontrolled collisions. The devastation and violence had been solely caused by the actions of the local populace. 

“Traynor, do you copy?” Ash wasn’t Alliance, she sure as hell wasn’t going to call her ‘Admiral’ or ‘ma’am.’ “Switch to my cam, I’ve got something you should see.”

_{Fuck},_ Traynor’s response was very un-Admiral-like. _{This is_ _definitely an_ _escalation. Can you tell if it’s widespread?}_

“Hard to tell,” Ash said as she scanned the street. “But as far as I can tell, it looks as though it only fired the once.” 

_{Noted. I’ll check in with the other squads. Keep me posted. Traynor out.}_

Ash turned her attention back to the habitats. It was as though their walls had been peeled back to reveal a slice of life inside. In the kitchen of one, a half-prepared meal sat where it had been left the day before - once fresh vegetables going limp in the heat. In the home next to it, several children’s toys littered the floor. Among them, Ash recognised a model of the Normandy SR-2. She knew its thrusters lit up when you swooshed it through the air. Alice had the same one. 

Although her attention had been momentarily distracted by the toys, Ash didn’t miss the movement in the next house. Wide purple eyes stared out at her from behind an overturned table. At the sight of Ash’s gun, the eyes went wider and disappeared. 

“We’re here to help!” 

Ash darted forward, still keeping her weapon ready. Behind the table she found a young asari, probably only a decade older than Alice, frozen in fright. Her arms and chest were covered in blood, but Ash could see only fear in her eyes. The asari made no move towards violence. 

“What’s your name?” Ash asked gently, only then lowering her rifle. “I’m Ash. We’re here to help you.” 

The asari’s lips parted, but no sound emerged other than a slight whimper. 

“Is anyone else here?” 

There was no response other than a vague motion of her head towards the kitchen. Ash glanced over her shoulder and saw Liara enter the ruined habitat behind her. At the sight of Liara in full combat gear, helmet covering most of her head, Ash realised how terrifying they must appear to the young asari. 

“She doesn’t appear to be indoctrinated,” Ash pointed out. “Or at least if she was, she’s not now.”

“That is impossible. The signal emanating from the Reaper may have ceased, but we would still see the lingering effect of the indoctrination,” Liara replied. “Nothing here seems to follow established patterns.”  

Ash shook her head. “I’m not expecting anything to make sense. Even the Reapers themselves don’t seem to know what the hell they’re doing.” 

“Errr…Williams, T’Soni…ma’ams!” It was Hoonjan standing in the street outside. His voice carried a hint of panic. “I’ve got multiple incoming. Should I open fire?” 

“No!” They both answered in unison. 

They shared a look for a moment, before Liara turned to deal with the new problem. 

Alone with the terrified young asari, Ash shouldered her rifle. It was the only thing that she could do to make herself appear less threatening. 

She held out her hand. “Come on, you don’t want to hang around here.” 

There was a stubborn shake of her head in response. “Not without my sister.” 

“I promise I’ll find your sister if you join the others.” 

Outside, Ash could hear snippets of conversation in frightened but relieved voices, enough at least to know that there were more survivors who were possibly no longer under the Reaper’s influence. Although the asari was still eyeing Ash’s outstretched hand with distrust, she was inching forward slightly. After a few patient moments, Ash felt small fingers press against her own. She gently drew the asari to her feet. Even at her full height, the asari barely came up to Ash’s chest.

Ash squeezed the maiden’s hand gently. “Is your sister in the kitchen?” 

The asari shook her head. “I don’t think so…but she ran that way.” She nodded towards the kitchen again. “Away from me. Because she didn’t want to hurt me.” 

“Right. You go and join the others. I’ll be back with your sister.”

Looking slightly reassured, the maiden nodded. Ash was left alone in the ruined house. She drew her rifle again, keeping it at the ready. Unlike the living room, the kitchen looked undisturbed, save for a plate of food which had fallen from the counter and smashed on the floor. It was also deserted, although the back door was open. It led out into a small, terraced garden. Ash just caught sight of a shape as it disappeared over the wall at the back. Acting on instinct, she pursued. Her Jorgamund suit felt almost weightless as she vaulted up onto the wall and hurled herself over.

Save for half a dozen more bodies in her immediate vicinity, the road beyond was deserted. As she searched, her HUD picked up movement in the building across the road.

“Li, I’ve got movement. I think it’s another survivor but she’s rabbited. I’ll grab her and regroup asap. You guys okay?”

_{Fine, although inundated with survivors. At least a dozen. Ash, I do not think that it is advisable for you to go off alone, despite the change in situation.}_

“I’ll be five minutes max.”

Even as the promise left her lips, Ash was already moving towards the building. Rather than be concerned by Liara’s reservations, she felt a strange sense of confidence. Only at the back of her mind was the nagging feeling that the mission was going too well. After all the chaos that had come before them, she had to ask whether this was it? Would they simply round up the shocked but docile survivors and leave? Then the Gallipoli would bombard the Reaper from orbit. This particular problem would be solved. At least until the next one came calling while they were trying to figure out the bigger mystery.

There were no signs of movement when Ash entered the building itself. It appeared to be deserted. The only sound was the gentle tap of her boots on the tiles. And her own breaths – quiet and even. The confidence returned. The whole boots on the ground thing? That she could do. The bigger picture was better left to individuals like Sam and Liara. Ash would simply go wherever her skills were needed.

Case in point. Ash was now walking through corridors, peering into what she realised were eerily empty classrooms. A holographic image of the Tomaros System still hung in the air at the front of one room – lazily rotating as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

_{Ash, what is your status?}_

_You’d think she could go for five minutes without checking in on me,_ Ash thought irritably in response to Liara’s question.

“Nothing so far - no…hold on a sec-”

Mid-reply, Ash saw a vaguely humanoid shape ahead in the shadows. Whatever or whomever it was, was huddled in a dark corner. It was small and shivering.    

“I’ve got eyes on another survivor. I’ll regroup in five.”

Ash approached carefully – keeping her footsteps audible but hopefully not threatening. Her rifle was only ever a split second from silencing danger, but her years of experience and training ensured that resorting to violence would be a calculated decision.

“Hello?” Ash’s greeting sliced through the silence like a knife. “I’m here to help. Are you okay?”

The shape didn’t respond, at least not to her words. With several more steps forward, the shadows gave way slightly and Ash could make out what looked to be another young asari. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

Again, there was no response. Without any real reason, Ash felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickling. She inched forward, but there barely enough light coming into the corridor. It was as though the shadows had closed in again.

“I’m going to turn on my torch, okay?”

Again, no response. Ash activated the light on her rifle, careful to angle it away from the maiden at first. She brought the light up slowly, chasing away the shadows inch by inch. The form in front of her remained still, even as Ash brought the light to bear on her. 

Something wasn’t right. The maiden’s clothing was torn apart at the seams, making way for limbs that appeared to be grossly elongated. The skin beneath was almost translucent, revealing throbbing purple veins beneath. One hand was visible – if it called be called that. The fingers were grotesquely long, a talon at the end of each. Ash’s breath caught in her throat as the light hit the asari’s head. In that same moment, her head turned and the asari screamed with a sound that Ash hadn’t heard for twenty-five years. It was the piercing wail of a banshee.

There was no time to wonder how or what as what Ash had thought to be another maiden finally left her crouch. For a split second, Ash could clearly see it’s face. The creature was caught in a transition – lacking any of the mechanical implants of her ancestors during the War. The gaping maw with rows of pincer like teeth hadn’t fully formed. Ash could still see the likeness of the maiden it had once been. It was as though the asari was trapped, screaming out from behind the black eyes. In a way, it was even more terrifying than a full-fledged banshee. 

The banshee lunged forward, talons slashing wildly. Ash was caught mid-dodge when the razor-sharp tips caught her across the side of her helmet. She felt the visor shatter. A split second later there was white hot agony on one side of her face as several of the claws dug deep into her skin. She grunted with pain. Caught off balance, Ash hit the ground awkwardly. Her rifle fell from her grasp. Her vision hampered by the blood pouring into one eye, Ash scrambled to retrieve her fallen weapon, fingers scrambling on the floor near the light source. Her fingers closed over it as the banshee lunged again, forcing Ash to dive to one side. The rifle was no longer within her grasp. 

Had Ash had the time to think, she would have cursed her own complacency. As it was, she barely had time to drag herself to her feet before the banshee flicked its arm in an almost lazy movement. A warp ball arced towards Ash, deceptively fast. She rolled again, but the mass effect field tracked her effortlessly. It slammed into her shields and began eating away at them. **  
**

The shrill scream sounded yet again, reverberating through her damaged helmet. She remembered it as the sound a banshee made before making its tell-tale hops. The kind that reduced a safe distance to nothing.

Ash had long since admitted that this was a fight she couldn’t try to win. With the warp tendrils still clinging to her shields, she turned and ran. At every step, she heard the unique sound of the banshee’s teleport. Behind her…and everywhere. 

It wasn’t just coming closer, it was suddenly in front of her. On instinct, Ash activated her omni weapon. The Jorgamund suit didn’t possess a mere blade. It was a short but brutally effective sword. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. With a primal cry of rage, Ash leapt forward to strike. 

Mid-thrust, the banshee’s chest suddenly erupted. Dark purple blooms appeared to sprout from her chest. It took Ash several seconds to realise that it was simply a hail of gunfire hitting its target from behind. She felt warm splashes across her bare face, stinging her wounds, tasting acidic on her lips. She was staring directly at the banshee when the pupils contracted, revealing vibrant blue irises. They were eyes that Ash remembered seeing only minutes earlier on the creature’s sister. Another sound emerged from its mouth, not the ear-piercing wail, but a simple gasp. Then it slumped forward and hit the floor with a dull thud. Sightless eyes stared up at Ash. 

“Ash!”

Liara’s shout cut through Ash’s stupor. She looked up see several figures in the distance. They were blurred by the blood in her eyes and the darkness in the corridor, but she could pick Liara out easily. Especially when Liara started running towards her. Ash watched for a few moments, at least until she could see the anxiety on Liara’s face. Then she turned her attention back to the dead banshee. Wordlessly, she dropped to one knee. Although she hadn’t forgotten the fact that it had been trying to kill her, she still felt a pang of despair. She reached out and gently closed its eyelids. Urgent footsteps came to a halt beside her.

“Goddess! That is…impossible,” Liara said in an incredulous whisper. Despite the enormity of the discovery, her gaze barely lingered on the banshee. “Ash, what happened?” 

Ash stood before she turned to face Liara. Her intention was to appear fully composed, but as soon as she straightened, she felt a wave of dizziness. Liara instinctively reached out to support her. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine-” 

As the words left her lips, Liara finally caught sight of her face. Ash couldn’t gauge the extent of her own injuries – except for the fact that they stung like hell – but Liara’s face said more than she needed to know.

“You need a medbay,” Liara said succinctly. “Now.” **  
**

Ash stubbornly shook her head. “Not now, Liara, there’s too much work to be done.”

In response, Liara grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. Ash already felt anger coursing through her body in anticipation of what Liara was about to say. Somehow, she managed to stop her words of dissent before they left her mouth. A few deep breaths were all it took, that and seeing the determination in her bondmate’s gaze.

“No one will think any less of you,” Liara promised. “They will, however, if you insist on staying down here looking like that.” 

Ash nodded. Her entire face felt like it was splitting apart and she could feel the blood starting to crust on her skin, “I know. Just a little fired up. That’s all.”

Liara reached up and cupped her chin. Applying slight pressure, she turned Ash’s head so she could examine the wounds caused by the banshee’s claws more closely. 

“How’s it look? Will you still love me if I end up with scars?” Ash couldn’t resist asking. 

“Please, do not jest.” 

Liara sounded distinctly unamused, so Ash didn’t press the point. Although if she were being honest with herself, she was vain enough not to want scars. Not really. Some people could wear their scars openly, but Ash already had enough of the kind you could hide. She didn’t need any more.  

Her gaze drifted back to the dead banshee at their feet. “I thought I’d never see one of those again.” 

“Neither did I,” Liara whispered. “Traynor’s teams will need to examine it urgently.” 

Ash felt a wave of sadness. “Promise me they’ll treat her with respect?” 

“The creature tried to rip your face off,” Liara point out unsympathetically. 

“She was someone’s child, Liara. Not just a creature,” Ash replied quietly. “Too young to know that she was Ardat-Yakshi. Too young to know anything. Promise me?” 

Liara nodded. “I promise.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Ash was in the shuttle almost twenty minutes later, watching the Reaper fall away beneath her, that she finally let go of the tension in her body. She’d been holding it since the squad hit the ground, drawing it tightly around herself like a shield. At the point where she’d fought the banshee, it had felt like it was about to snap her in two. Now, it fell off her body like rivulets of water. She could finally draw the deep, calming breaths that she desperately needed. A corpsman had slathered her face in medigel and it was now numb. 

Nothing about that drop had been fun. They’d done a job, and a damned messy one at that. But the butcher wouldn’t be getting paid, not unless Ash added her good looks to the bill.  

_You’re not counting the hundreds of civilians,_ Ash reminded herself. _They didn’t sign up for this shit._

Or the unfortunate maiden. Twisted into a heinous creature, just like so many of her sisters during the War. 

Nor were the survivors the lucky ones. Their lives had been torn apart. Ash regretted not seeking out the dead maiden’s sister to speak to her in person. She would have omitted the whole banshee part. There were some things that you didn’t need to know. **  
**

_We need to stop these bastards now,_ she thought, ignoring the fact that no one was remotely close to an answer. **_T_** _his is just the beginning._

Her thoughts went to her own children and the idyllic life that had been carved out for them on the Zephyr Coast. A life where the war was only a shadow on the faces of their parents.

More than anything, Ash wanted it to stay that way.

* * *

**Nevos, Teyolia System**

Everything had been going so well. For the first time in over five years, Jack had been standing on her own two feet. She’d needed to hold onto the side of her bed for support, but her feet were still planted firmly on the floor. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Not by half. Her satisfaction had quickly given way to determination. In her own typical fashion, she’d needed to push herself further. Simply standing wasn’t enough. Not when she wanted to take a step.

That was the point that everything had come crashing down – literally.

As soon as she’d tried to lift one leg, the other had given out beneath her. Accompanied by a flurry of expletives, Jack had fallen heavily to the floor. Now she lay on her back, wallowing in her embarrassing failure. She tried to ascertain the extent of her injuries. It felt as though she’d snapped into hundreds of tiny pieces. Yet with small, exploratory movements, she managed to make her arms and legs work. However, as she tried to haul herself back to her feet, she realised she didn’t have the strength in her body.

As she flopped back to the floor yet again, she sensed the disapproval of other person in the room.

“Stop judging me!” Jack snapped. “This was your dumb idea, you could at least help me up.”

“You know I’m not going to do that, Jack,” the reply was unsympathetic. “You’re more than capable of getting off your own ass. You just need to focus on what you want to do.”

“I am focussed, you fuck. It’s not helping my legs work.”

“Then clearly you don’t want it enough.”

“Well you don’t know how badly I want to come over there and smack your fucking face!”

It wasn’t happening. Not even with that incentive. With her lungs burning with the effort, Jack gave up and lowered herself down to the floor. Her body was grateful that she no longer had to support any of her own weight. She looked back over her head at the other woman, now upside down.

Shepard simply shook her head. Jack felt her Commander’s disapproval. She scowled to cover up her shame.

“How are you going to get back into the fight from down there?”

Jack’s scowl deepened. The only fight these days was against her failing body. And if she were being completely honest, she had no desire to go back to that old life. She’d been at her happiest during the years she spent at Grissom, even when the kids were driving her crazy. But again, she didn’t want to let Shepard down.

“My fighting days are done,” Jack could hear the weakness in her own voice. “And I’m bloody tired. Just wanna rest. You don’t need me.”

“Jack?”

Urgent footsteps suddenly interrupted her musings. The kind made by a sharp-heeled shoe. There was only one person she ever saw who wore such stupid footwear. Sure enough, seconds later the Cheerleader was hunkering down beside her.

“What are you doing on the floor and who were you talking to?” Miranda’s voice was soft, but it still sounded like she was reprimanding a child.

“Ask her?” Jack muttered, jerking her head in Shepard’s direction.

There was no way she was going to take the blame for this. And besides, she couldn’t wait to be a bystander while Miranda scolded someone else for a change.

Miranda scanned the room and frowned. “Ask who? Jack, there’s no one else here. It’s just us.” 

“Great, she makes herself scarce and I’m left flopping around on the floor looking like an idiot. Like I just decided to get out of bed by myself. Well fuck you, Shepard. Fuck you very much.”

Jack glared at Miranda, but there was only a patient expression on the other woman’s face.

“Since when have you ever listened to what anyone has told you, Jack?” Miranda observed patiently. “Even Shepard.”

“Not anymore,” Jack muttered petulantly. “Next time she tells me to do something, I’m going to tell her exactly where she can shove it.”

Miranda didn’t answer as she concentrated on checking Jack’s body for injuries. Jack felt each touch, even in her wasted muscles. Although she was professional about it, Miranda’s touch was deliberately tender.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve broken anything,” Miranda finally said.

“Could’ve told you that.”

“You know I like to be thorough.”

Miranda didn’t sound offended or annoyed at Jack’s tone. Jack wondered if she was losing her edge – or at least her ability to rile the Cheerleader. She briefly contemplated saying something snarky in response, but the way Miranda was touching her – as though she cared – made her think twice.

“Here, put your arm around my neck.”

Jack complied, and Miranda drew her in close. Miranda always smelled nice. Even in the aftermath of a firefight with the Collectors, Jack remembered the way Miranda’s perfume lingered. At first, it used to make her furious. What the hell had the Cheerleader been doing if she still smelled that good? Clearly hanging back, letting the grunts do the dirty work. However, as the missions went by, Jack watched and learned. Miranda was always where the fighting was the heaviest. Shouldering just as much, if not more, of the work as everyone else. Rather than being impressed, it had only angered Jack further. At every turn, she kept finding less reasons to hate the other woman.

Back then, she’d only ever had to look to the logo on Miranda’s breast, and the fires of hate would be stoked once more. It was only later, when she no longer had that logo as a focal point, that Jack struggled to hold onto the hate. Eventually, she stopped trying. 

Miranda suddenly flared, and Jack was enveloped in an intoxicating scent of other kind. Dark Energy didn’t give off a smell as such, but Jack could feel it in the air. It vibrated with potential. Thick and rich, but tantalisingly out of reach. It lasted only long enough for Miranda to hoist her up off the ground. Then it disappeared as Miranda easily coped with her scant weight.

Before Miranda could deposit her on the bed, Jack shook her head. “No, the chair. Please.”

Although her body still ached from her fall, she couldn’t face the thought of going back to bed. At least during Miranda’s visit. Jack wanted to sit up – to feel as though she was a part of everyday life and not just some cripple in a bed. A part of her hoped that Shepard had gone to get her a drink. An actual drink – none of that muck the doctors kept trying to force on her. Her mood suddenly improved. She even sat patiently as Miranda tucked a blanket around her legs.

Then it hit her like a hammer.

_Shepard is dead._

The realisation that she would spend the rest of her life waiting for that drink to come. She listened to the sound of a chair scraping across the floor as Miranda dragged one closer to her. When Miranda sat, their knees were touching.

“Fuck. I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse,” Jack muttered. She saw the frown on Miranda’s face and explained, “That I keep seeing her…Shepard I mean. On one hand, I always liked that bitch. She was…I dunno the word for it…wise I guess. Always had good advice, even if you didn’t wanna hear it.”

“Especially if you didn’t want to hear it,” Miranda chimed in, her voice quiet.

“Then I remember that she got herself killed. The real kicker is that I’m probably remembering it for the hundredth time. And I get angry that she’s gone all over again.” It was a vicious circle. Finding out that a close friend was dead all over again. Not to mention the fact that it meant she herself was clearly crazy. Jack liked to forget about that part. “If she was so clever, she should have found a way to save the Galaxy without bloody dying. Don’t you think?”

The Cheerleader didn’t respond, at least not straight away. That usually only happened when she was struggling with the right way to say something without lying.

“I don’t know,” Miranda replied eventually, evasively. “I think that…whatever happened in the Crucible, she made the best decision she could.”

Jack recognised the shadow that fell across Miranda’s face for what it was. A voice in her head was yelling at her to press the issue. It was the crux of their relationship after all. The baiting. Saying exactly what she wanted, whenever the hell she wanted. But this time Jack chose not to.

“I wish I imagined someone that wasn’t such a pain in my ass.” Jack paused and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Huh…if it’s all in my head, is it just me being a pain in my own ass?”

Miranda laughed lightly. It was a pleasant sound that Jack enjoyed hearing. It faded all too abruptly, replaced by a pensive silence that Jack knew well. Jack sometimes wished that she had the capacity for chit-chat, but that had never been her style. If something needed to be said, there was no reason not to spit it out then and there. Talking about any other crap for an hour was just a waste of everyone’s time.

“Is it bad news?”

“What?”

Jack would have thought after all this time that the Cheerleader would have known her better. Or else Miranda was being deliberately elusive.

“I can tell this isn’t just another visit. You’ve got something to tell me. So, spill.” Jack could sense it was about her. Although she had reacted badly at first, she’d long since become used to hearing bad news. “Lemme guess. The treatment has stopped working? Knew that shit was too good to be true!”

“What? No!” Miranda replied emphatically. “Your results are still positive. Can’t you feel it? A few months ago, if you’d fallen like that, you would have broken bones. _Bones plural_. No, Jack, this isn’t about your treatment.”

“Oh.” Jack didn’t know whether to be disappointed.

The new treatment definitely was the shit. She couldn’t deny that she felt better than she’d felt in a hell of a long time. But after her earlier mishap, she couldn’t help but ask what the point of it was. If it didn’t help her walk again, did she really want a few more years confined to her bed? Jack pushed that particular tangent to the back of her mind so she could focus on Miranda.

Miranda leaned forward in her chair. “This isn’t about you…not really. It’s about me.”

“Isn’t it _always_ about you?” Jack quipped. It wasn’t. It was always about _her_. Not Miranda. And she liked it that way.

“Against all expectations, things are going well with Nea. You remember, Nea? The asari-”

“Please, I’m not so far gone that I’d forget that hot piece of ass,” Jack interrupted.

“I know, Jack. I’m sorry. It’s just…navigating this whole thing isn’t something I’m used to.”

If Jack didn’t know better, she would have guessed that the Cheerleader was nervous. For a moment, she watched the way Miranda kept clasping and unclasping her hands. Then she realised what would make the other woman act like that. On one hand she was pleased for putting all the pieces together, on the other…

“You’re leaving.” Jack tried to keep the accusatory tone from her voice. There was no need for that tone to be there. Not really. Except thoughts of not having Miranda close by, or not seeing her on a regular basis, made her feel…weird. Jack didn’t want to explore those feelings in more depth. She stuck to her default position. Anger. “Well bugger off then.”

Jack was pleased when Miranda looked crestfallen, drawing attention away from her own insecurity.

“I am thinking of leaving, but it’s not like that. Nea invited me to Thessia for a few months. it’s not a done deal though. I can stay.”

“You’re going on fucking holiday? Could’ve just said that in the first place.”

Jack was deliberately surly - annoyed that she’d been wound up over something so trivial. Anyone would think she had separation anxiety or something. Or perhaps they both did. Although Miranda had definitely said months. That already felt like a long time.

“Don’t hurry back.”

“Like I said, I don’t have to go. If you need me-”

“You should go, Cheerleader.” Jack said suddenly. She had a distinct feeling that she’d said something similar before. A long time ago. The words came almost by route. “Don’t let anything hold you back. Especially not me.”

Miranda smiled. It was warm and genuine. She reached out to hold Jack’s hand. Jack resisted the urge to snatch it away to prove her point. Instead her fingers curled slightly.

“You’ve never held me back.”

Miranda sounded sincere, but Jack knew bullshit when she heard it. All she’d done for the past eight years was do the exact opposite. She’d kept Miranda tied to Nevos like some fucking ball and chain. And she’d selfishly loved every moment of it. Jack withdrew her hand and waved towards the door.

“Piss off. Go pack or whatever. Shepard will be back with drinks soon and I don’t want you cramping our style.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Miranda admitted, still leaning close. “I haven’t even booked anything…let alone packed.”

That pleased Jack. Miranda’s decision hadn’t been a forgone conclusion. Her heart swelled with an odd feeling. It was a feeling that needed to be squashed immediately.

“Go book then! Fuck! Do you want a fucking farewell party?”

Of course Jack wanted Miranda to stay, but at the same time she wanted her gone as quickly as possible. She had important shit to do after all. She watched impatiently as Miranda rose to her feet and scanned the room, as though checking whether there was anything she could help with before she left. There wasn’t. Not even a glass to tidy away.

“You’ll behave yourself won’t you?”

Now that earned a scowl. “Like fuck I will.”

The Cheerleader was almost gone. Jack felt a little bereft already. But she’d grown as a person over the preceding years. At least to the point that she was glad that Miranda had finally opened herself up to another individual. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Miranda.

“Miranda?”

Miranda paused in the open doorway, an expectant expression on her face. Perhaps hoping that Jack had changed her mind about her staying. “Yes, Jack?”

“Just send me a fucking postcard, okay? One with plenty of blue tits on it.”

There was a small smile in response. “I promise, Jack.”

The door closed shut behind Miranda. It was only then that Jack realised she probably should have asked Miranda to help her back into bed. 

After all, asking Shepard when she came back would be fucking pointless. The woman would simply tell her to drag her own fat ass back into bed.


End file.
